Bella

Silly.

2012-02-24T23:36:00.000-08:00

I have one hundred huge projects due in the next four weeks. Really big ones. I felt chained to my desk this morning. I felt like I was wasting time all day. I felt useless as I prayed for peace.

And then God was like,

Silly girl.

And he sat me down on my bed and I breathed and sewed a little bit and it was gone. Well, almost. I will admit to a certain residual piece in my chest even right now, but for the most part I recognize that it is just me being ridiculous. I have done this every term. I have been overwhelmed with projects and people and things and perfection. I have been brimming.

I will go to bed now. I will only care to a certain extent. I will live towards grace. I will recognize that the earth is just that, the earth, and I will not be here forever. I will wake up tomorrow and cherish a cup of coffee and my time with the Father. Then I will tackle things. I will conquer things. I will fail at things.

I will be silly over silly things.

I'm only human after all.

Who has the right to try and make us like Wickham?

2012-02-22T10:48:00.000-08:00

Last night Mandy and I stayed up too late watching some spin-off of "Pride & Prejudice" that we randomly found on netflix. I was so upset by the end of it that I threw a pillow at the television. And then I proceeded to lay in my bed and cry and try to sleep. That ended up being totally impossible. So then I sat in my bedroom wearing short pants that Kirsten had made for Mandy and reading my pretty copy of P&P. Mostly just the parts where Darcy proposes and Elizabeth is flustered and Darcy proposes and I get to hate Wickham.
I stayed up past one I think.
I have become irreparably sensitive to all things concerning literature that I like.
It is a downfall.

Short and sweet

2012-02-21T18:59:00.003-08:00

Currently in love with Anthro's book selection. I think all I will want for my birthday this year is Kinfolk. I am sold, I promise.
Today I tackled school alone. Mandy had jury duty. In French we're on to our movie week. It's my new favorite already, "Entre le murs."
Also, this morning I made vegan chocolate cake that kind of fell apart but is excellent.

I have to finish my midterm now and possibly type my lion story and drink tea.

One step forward, Forty-eight backwards.

2012-02-20T14:14:00.000-08:00

I am officially totally confused about what homework I am supposed to be doing and what homework can wait. It's all because of this Montessori field trip we're taking. And I am distracted by vegan cake recipes. That too.
I do know that I am supposed to be reading 60 pages for multicultures. I don't really want to do that. I want to read Mitford and drink tea.

This morning I talked to Kirsten about bundles and 4-runners. I also had thoughts on the Centurion story in Matthew 8 (I think it's in Matthew 8). And we watched Bear Grylls. I have undying admiration for that man. He has inspired me to want to take rock climbing and wilderness classes, both of which I have yet to work up the guts to register for. Probably in Fall quarter. I can get gumption by Fall.

I now have to go brainstorm for birthdays, wrap some gifts, type out some stories, and finish my mid-terms. Also possibly figure out what is actually due while not procrastinating with Jan Karon. That would be a good thing. But I can have tea; I will justify that as a helpful study technique.
I need strategies to break these Man vs.Wild and lion obsessions. Maybe I can find them in Matthew.

P.s. I finally added to this.

Break.

2012-02-18T18:35:00.000-08:00

I have constantly been thinking of lions, learning to read somewhere between the kitchen table and the floor, and my last French exam. I did not realize before school that I am a perfectionist. I don't think I even believe in grades anymore which is really quite terrible because I am going to be a teacher. Reggio Emilia is looking more and more appealing. That's a shame, because I am learning French not Italian.
I just have trouble looking at a 98%.
I just finished one of my bigger homework assignments and the dishes, so now I am thinking of writing some letters, painting or knitting, and watching Bones. I need to find my purple yarn.
Franny is texting me about speaking in tongues.
I miss ceramics. I think art is like another language. An invented language, kind of like invented spelling. I just want to sit with my apron on and play around with porcelain while memorizing Keats. Clay is earth. I love that. I love the earth and making things out of it. It says so much.

I will go and take a break now. From being me, I mean.
I don't want to try so hard right now.

Happy Valentine's Day. Not.

2012-02-14T17:59:00.000-08:00

I am in the campus library not expressing emotions I want to express.
We played a game in multicultural class. You stand in a circle and she reads a sentence and if it applies to you, you walk into the middle.

On the last page she read:
"Move to the middle if the phrase 'God bless America' resonates somewhere within you."
Fifteen people.
Four of us walk into the middle of the circle.

I hate these kinds of games. I swear the devil invented them and I already live in Mere Christianity; I just didn't know it before.

2 Timothy 2
10Therefore I endure all things for the elect's sakes, that they may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. 11It is a faithful saying: For if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him: 12If we suffer, we shall also reign with him: if we deny him, he will also deny us: 13If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful: he cannot deny himself.

At least I did eat chocolate today.
That's a plus.

Maine[ly] this is ridiculous

2012-02-11T22:26:00.001-08:00

Mandy's current thrifts from the Goodwill. She also snagged me a tan leather portfolio shoulder bag. I am in love with it.
We are sitting at the table doing French homework. I am elsewhere though. At least my soul. My little brother has been devouring the "Inkheart" trilogy which means that I am too. Which means I am in a current state of wanderlust. I want to go to Maine. I want to read myself into The Chronicles of Narnia. I want to live The Princess Bride. I want to drive to the East coast. I want June. I want to pack a backpack and tour Europe. I want to live in a small house. I want to find Neverland. I want to travel. I want to see. To feel. To walk. To breathe.
In Inkheart the characters have the ability to read themselves into books. Fairytales. I wish that I could do that. I wish I could form words more beautifully, beautifully enough to weave a spell about myself to take me into a strange and familiar place. Somewhere that I've only imagined through another person's words. Like the places I go at night in my head.
But I am here. In my kitchen at 10pm and thinking of J.M.Barrie and irregular "ir" verbs. Nowhere near the East coast or my copy of Peter Pan. It's the nights like this when I have to tell myself, be satisfied. Be satisfied with your own life and words and stories crafted about lions named "Rosemary" and small leather purses.
There is a tiny yellow leather purse I recently found myself swooning over in the thrift shop in town the other day. I contemplated making it my first buy since Clothesless ended. I still haven't bought anything. But I don't know. I want to. I really do. I think it might be somewhat of an adventure. Buying something after a whole year of not buying anything. Doesn't that seem kind of pathetic though? I think so. Some girl in Oregon standing in a second-hand store, frustrated with a very small decision concerning materialism, and coming to terms with the fact that a lifelong protest is not an option.
I just need to go to Maine.
Crisp seaside air and docks with sleeping bags and living out of a backpack for a while and eating good food and knitted cardigans. I can see it now in my head.
I should go to sleep.

To Mona - Korey Dane

2012-02-11T21:52:00.000-08:00

Naked.

2012-02-10T16:07:00.000-08:00

This morning I went to field placement and there were kids that had been out on Monday, so half of them didn't know who I was. The one red-headed boy looks at me with a gaping mouth and asks the little girl next to him in a very loud whisper, who's she? That's Bella, she tells him, she helps us. I smile at him. Oh! She's cute, he says. And then proceeds to stare at me for the whole portion of the morning before we split off into leveled classes.

La just informed me via her boyfriend that I had a picture of a naked woman on this blog. I have removed it, but as a disclaimer, I didn't know it was there.
I will tell you some things about myself.
I like flowers. Big, blooming pink ones, and tiny white ones. I make stories. I have the uncanny habit of sitting on a floor for too long and running pens out of ink. I drink tea. I like the book of Ruth. I enjoy making bread. I believe in good things. I don't support abortion. I have no problems with alcohol unless you add the 'ic.' I like Judy Garland's voice. I admire John Keats, who was atheist I will add. I prefer first, second, and third grade. I believe in play. I believe in God. I will never appreciate nor post pornography.
There are a few things in life I will not tolerate. Porn is one. But I do believe in forgiveness. Including self-forgiveness.
Pornography has very pervasive qualities. It has invaded our culture in a sly manner. So much so, that sometimes we don't even notice it. Porn used to be porn. Now it is a thousand things. Now it has a thousand masks. Including that of art. People are discovering you can do things in a particular way, and it's okay. The world lies about it.
It's your body; it's beautiful. There's nothing wrong with sharing. Look, it makes people glad. Satisfied. And oh, did you notice? Put it in a gallery, and they don't gawk. They admire it. They appreciate it. People love your body. People love you.
I hate that. All of that. I have fallen for that trap multiple times. Not in such a glaring manner as this time. But in subtle ways. I really like backs. And constellations of freckles or moles. Skin is a weakness. I think it's beautiful. I think it's lovely, and gorgeous. But do I think you should take your shirt off and take a picture and show the world?
No.
There are few people in this life that all of you should belong to. Pretty much only one person. And obviously if you are only going to belong to one person, you should hide portions of yourself for that one person and his or her benefit and pleasure. The internet is not a secret. Things are not hidden. Clothes hide things.

So. I apologise if you saw the unorthodox photograph. I feel bad for you if you did and chose not to inform me. I would have thanked you. But I have to go now. I have a billion pages of homework and to make 22 Valentines for my class.
Little boys who stare at you when you're dressed are harmless.
It's the people who choose to provide you with other parts of themselves unclothed that you need to be wary of.
Just saying.

God's soap.

2012-02-08T08:09:00.000-08:00

I took Fran to the bus this morning. It was cold and I was cold so I wore my knitted Eddie Bauer mittens. I also scraped the windshield of my car off with a cassette case because I've yet to buy a windshield scraper. Then I came home and read a page of Keats and took a shower and used my gardenia soap from Hana.
I find myself constantly trying to balance the things that I do in my life that I think are hard with nice things that I like.
I also had to warm up my Mere's car for her and scrape off her windshield. But she has a scraper, so that was easier. A neighbor shot his gun off while I was out there and I think I almost threw up. He could have at least warned me. After that I got out my tin of Paris and my Kate&Birdie Co. paper and now I am going to make Valentines, breakfast, and tea.

In French class yesterday we talked about our dream houses. While we were driving home, Mandy and I discussed them in more depth. We talked about claw-footed bathtubs, lilacs, wood paneled bedrooms, wall colors, and huge kitchens.
I have been pondering lately that maybe it is not sinful to draw blueprints of dream houses in your mind because you aren't actually coveting something that already exists. But then I have been thinking that maybe I'm just making a grey area for myself. In all honesty, I don't really see anything wrong with trying to create a space as close to the way you imagine heaven to be on earth.
Heaven might have gardenia soap in every bathroom.

The most important thing I've found lately, is not to look through Anthro magazines because you will really want the green leather couch for your dream house. And balance. Balance is good.

Seeing further.

2012-02-05T08:33:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke to a thick blanket of an all-white sky. Frost clung to the trees and the wire surrounding my run. I paused from gathering eggs and feeding to watch ten deer slowly exit my yard with their pretty, long legs and jump the fence to the neighbor's in one graceful leap each.
The thing I love most about Oregon is the omnipresence of nature. I see God everywhere.
I read Ezekiel and had chocolate cake to start my day. It was about inheritance and I don't think I understood it. So then I read the first chapter of 1st John. That I understood. Also because I had green tea with honey in it at that point, which means I was possibly more awake than when I was eating the cake.
It's winter, but I have been dreaming of planting a lavender plot and violets in a square in my backyard. I feel like I'm committing adultery with thoughts of summer and sun.
Yesterday I figured out how to fold notes like John Keats used to for Fanny Brawne. I am making Valentines. I was so happy about it yesterday afternoon that my hands were shaking and I kissed the pile of paper sitting on my table. I feel accomplished. And also somewhat like I have a secret.
Church now. My hair is frizzy, but I'll do something to it. Homework today and Missions class too. More Valentines. And I'll probably sit outside for ten minutes writing about what I see.
I love what I see this morning.

Sheer curtain of Salvation.

2012-02-03T13:55:00.000-08:00

"Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do."
-C.S.Lewis

Some people are very dedicated Christians. When they are down or bitter or unforgiving, they take a breath and read their Bibles. They pray about everything and cry and understand grace. Then they move on in their lives of always cherishing Christ with the perfect amount of tenderness because of His sacrifice and great love.

I am so not like that.
I will unashamedly admit to that right now. These last few days have only solidified my knowledge of a flapping bird of misconceptions and denial perched in my heart. I have sat on my hands all week. I didn't breathe; I've been holding my breath since Tuesday. I blush to admit that I don't read my Bible when I'm upset. Call me what you please, but I never could do that. My Bible is not a book I would describe as a refuge. Fiction is a solace; fiction isn't real. The Bible is real. The Bible happened.
Last night I was super angry. It had to do with some ridiculous film in Multi-Cultures about Disney movies and also first grade classrooms and the state of our education system. I was seething. I'm not one of those people who can be complacent about things. I feel nothing or everything. No in-between. And last night I probably should have prayed very softly under my breath and then come home and read Matthew or something, but I didn't. I ranted and pressed the edge of my palm to my sternum a few times and then I got out The Chronicles of Narnia and binged on vanilla ice cream.
Now I know what you're thinking, she's one of those people.
And I am.
Here is something I've been learning, and this all has blossomed out of Lauren Winner's book Girl Meets God, so blame her not me. Anyway, I have discovered that life is very short and we are fickle. We are also very fragile, but that's a whole other subject. This last week I have gotten into a tizzy over the most menial things. Honestly. For example, I was very bitter the other day because I was trying to work on my memoir of defying consumerism when all that was really in my head was a yellow silk skirt I had seen a picture of earlier that morning.
Fact: if the downfall of men is a lust for women, for women it is a lust of clothing—and a thousand other things.
I had to go sit on my bed for a little while and stare at my walls and try to understand and not cry. I feel very ignorant of grace. Then I proceeded to get out The Princess Bride and ignore the entire situation. Coping strategies. I think it was Joan Didion who said something like, "In time of trouble, I had been trained since I was young, read, learn, work it up, go to literature." I might have been trained to do that unconsciously, but I think I might have been born to do that.
Lately I have taken to marrying books. To each other I mean. I started the tradition long ago; I used to just think I was being obnoxious because I didn't have enough time to read everything I wanted to, so I would read more than one book at a time. People called me an over-achiever for that. But now that I reflect on it, I see that my pairings were conscious. I paired books the way people pair wine with chocolate or themselves with a spouse. I liked the unexpected flavors that came together. Some mellow and peaceful. Others snapping and blooming with spontaneity and shock. I think my first marriage was The Count of Monte Cristo and Little Women. Dumas was such a long novel, and I didn't want to lose ground in my new found love of classics. So I read them both. Mornings were for Alcott of course, but my nights were full of Edmond Dantes. It was a magical experience, waking up and nestling down in the sweetness of domesticity, and hiding under my blankets eating adventures and running through twisting plots of excitement way too late into the evening. After that I was enraptured.
Recently, I have married Lauren Winner with Elizabeth Gilbert. It's possibly the worst relationship I've ever created, and I just know that if I wasn't so dedicated they would commit adultery or get a divorce. Eat, Pray, Love is selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. While Lauren is falling into love with my carpenter, Elizabeth is dumping men left and right, trouncing off to countries to find "herself," and being spiritually insignificant. I am just mortified with myself right now. It's honestly like handing someone a Merlot and a bag of pork rinds. But I am determined to finish it out. Because I think if I do, I will learn something about the little flapping bird perched in my heart. I will learn he is Elizabeth Gilbert. I will learn he is wrong most often. I will learn he is my humanity.
I will learn that he is my flesh.
Gripping onto the cavern of myself that is constantly being filled with the spirit. He is in a flurry. Because he doesn't get it. At all. But that doesn't matter. What matters is the slow fullness of Christ weaving into me. Painting the corners of my chest cavity and quietly making its way towards my heart where that belligerent bird is. It will get there. I will get there. Someday. Possibly when I reach Heaven, that house with porch lights that the busy birds do not like. Possibly when I wake up one morning and find a sheer curtain that changes the colors of my room and think, oh yes. Now I know. This is what it's supposed to be like. This color. With tiny leaves and light exactly this hue.
So, yes. I am that girl.
I get angry. I get upset. half of the time I honestly don't know what I am doing. I only read my Bible in the quiet moments when I am actually close to grasping the concept of grace because Job does not bode well with me in my own bitterness. I do read fictional novels instead of praying sometimes; I find a solace in Peter Pevensie's struggles with doubt and lordship instead of my own.
I am that girl.
But, I am also the girl saved by grace she doesn't understand especially when she dwells in the past and sits crying with ironed hair.
I am a sinner.
I am saved.

hacked by a fairy.

2012-02-03T13:07:00.000-08:00

5 reasons why you're awesome: by fairy

1. because when ever i didn't listen and class, you let me borrow your notes anyway.
2. you rock the red lipstick.
3. you make me want to read. (and i hate reading.)
4. you write stories like i eat donuts.
5. and because your husband is gonna be the best husband. you can sure pick em.

man...you are just so dang cool.

When I am thirty and not in school.

2012-02-01T14:22:00.000-08:00

^{Philippians 4}
^{6Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. 7And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.}

^Admittance:^{This morning has tried me. I would explain, but I don't feel like doing that.}
^{See, I am sitting here at the computer desk, and I look very nice. I have eyeliner on, my hair is flat-ironed with a little braided hairband, I am wearing a polka dot skirt and a shirt with big white flowers on it, but I think I am going to go cry in my bedroom and wrap a package for Nat+La. I was supposed to go somewhere today.}
^{I think this is what it feels like to get stood up.}
^{Oh wait. I think I did just get stood up.}

^{I have to go read 100+ pages of textbooks, write three papers, do an open book quiz, and make thank yous. Also let God keep my heart and mind because He's so much better at it than I am, and I really am too sensitive to do it myself.}

Foot in mouth.

2012-01-31T19:27:00.000-08:00

This will be quick; I promise.
I had a very good day today, and I just have to make it known.
I took a French exam. I got my field placement (First grade on Friday). I read some of 14,000 Things to be Happy About. I flat-ironed my hair. I had a toffee cappuccino for 75cents. I read some of Girl Meets God. I studied. I laughed. I wore long, gold earrings.
I also had a very difficult day today.
I am struggling with my Multi-Cultural class. I will admit it. Not academically mind you, but on a very personal, theological level. Today I felt like I was in The Screwtape Letters. And that everyone in the room had their own little demon. And they were all listening to them.
I wanted to stand up and shout.
I wanted to tell them they were putting labels on what was really sin.
I wanted to cry.
I did actually. I went into the bathroom afterwards and cried. I wondered if tears can rebuke the devil or if he just finds strength in a sensitive spirit.

I have to go now. Mandy and I are headed to Safeway for donuts and then home.
I have a lot to think about.
But I'm grateful I understand the importance of reflection and holding my tongue.

Benjamin is important.

2012-01-30T14:15:00.000-08:00

I have been reading lots of Stephen Dunn. There are words in his pieces that are residual. I like it. Especially "bluesy." I think if I wrote the word bluesy in an essay though, I might get in trouble. Sometimes I don't like school. Sometimes I like to sit and read copious amounts of Tyler Knott Gregson and Stephen Dunn.

I am reading a book about a woman who was Jewish and then decided she wasn't Jewish anymore but believed in Jesus. But she couldn't not be Jewish, if you know what I mean. She loved everything about it. The songs and dances and traditions. They were all very special to her and she couldn't let them go. So she ended up in the middle, tight-roping two faiths. But I'm still yet partway through. I think she gets off the tightrope.

I wondered this morning if we really know what we're doing. I think it has to do with the wanderlust in my soul that I have tripped over lately. I have been mapping out ideas and dreams, and I often find myself actually looking at maps lately. There's something nestled in the small corner of my heart screaming: France, Italy, Holland. But the bigger corners of my heart host other things: floral dishes, wooden boxes, vintage combs, and screenplays. So I don't really know what to do.

The best way I can think to describe it is this.

I feel like there are too many things I should do. It's that bird thing again. Flighty. Ungrounded. Bluesy. It's like trekking up a mountain and I only brought one backpack, but everything is spilling out of it, and yet I still demand that more small blue stones and white branches be shoved into the pockets. Even though they don't fit.

Even though they aren't important.

My Bible reading is all over the place. I am almost done with Ezekiel. I will admit that the thought of Daniel is pulling on my heartstrings, but I have become enraptured by Joseph's story. My hands have a mind of their own and keep leafing back to Genesis. Joseph is such a good story. I never really thought about it before, but most of Jacob's sons were half brothers. They probably loved each other, but still. They had different mothers, and so they had different relationships. Joseph only had one full brother. His Mother died when she gave birth to him. His name was Benjamin.

I read the whole thing yesterday and started crying. Especially at this part.

Genesis 45

14And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

Can you imagine? All those years and finally seeing him again. I think Joseph saw his Mother in Benjamin.

I also think that if I was a Jew, I would have a hard time converting too. There's something beautiful about an old faith. And committing spiritual infidelity is never easy. Especially if you're leaving behind something so covenantal and antique as Judaism. I'm realizing that that faith is full of promises that are really gorgeous.

I am also realizing that in my faith, those promises are fulfilled.

lately.

2012-01-29T10:18:00.000-08:00

-Martin Freeman
-small pale yellow belt
-homework
-The Botany of Desire and The Princess Bride
-field placement
-plumeria body lotion
-many eggs
-biscuits and molasses possibility
-garland ideas
-projects
-tea
-Bon Iver
-passport
-late night, late night, late night because of books
-letters
-packages
-I need a frame
-cold toes
-sun

BentMoon.

2012-01-24T17:24:00.000-08:00

Okay. Here's the thing.
I am sitting in the college library, studying my French and looking at film magazines and drawing lions. I wanted to draw lions with charcoal, but charcoal costs $4 at the bookstore and I don't have that. I have also been thinking about Native Americans, but that's a whole other post.
I wrote a story about a boy who loved a lion yesterday. It was really something. With peaches and love and Africa and the kind of sadness that lasts in your mouth when you go to bed. I think it was a good story. I also think it was a little farfetched. But I will pursue belief for my own work. If I don't, who will?

I think I am going to sketch on the upper level of the library, or work on my fairytale. And also look for Jonathan Safran Foer books. I am in that kind of mood. I might read that letter about Wind Wolf from his Father again. I am in that kind of mood too. It's my new favorite piece. I am going to hang it on my wall.

People fall in love, so why not with lions?
Here's the thing.
It's not so farfetched.

Major Nerdage.

2012-01-21T20:12:00.000-08:00

Fleur.
It's a homework night for me. But Dante and Mandy just got done watching "The Office" and so now I want to watch it. I am trying to be all smart-like and calculate if I should do it or not or if that would be procrastination. I even made a list of what I needed to do. Then I made a pie chart of what I wanted to do and it's not working out so well. I think homework will win this war. I mean, I try to be bad and go all James Dean on everybody, but that's a persona as a student I might need to work on.
Not that watching "The Office" instead of reading French vocabulary is very rebel without a cause-ish. In fact, it's probably dorky more than anything else.
Should I do it anyway?
Yes.
Will I?
No.
I'm not a very good James Dean. And Pam+Jim are awfully cute, but the only way I will give in to temptation is if I finish all of my reading. Eighty pages. I am about half way through.
So, I am proposing a solution to my very nerdy self.
Get in your pajamas, read your chapter in Effective Practices, start your stereotypes journal, make a french press of H&S peaches and ginger tea, and then we will see if you are done by ten o'clock.
You can watch "The Office" if you are.

See?
I am terrible. I just wrote a blog post to myself. I also just made a pie chart on pink card stock for myself but we're going to pretend that I didn't do that.

There is a girl in my Multicultural Issues class and I swear she looks and sounds just like Kelly. I almost asked her once if it was her. Instead I just bask in delight every time she opens her mouth because I feel so awesome.

Anatomically correct flowers.

2012-01-14T14:42:00.000-08:00

Fleur.
At home right now. Possibly about to go write Kirsten a letter and draw some pictures and study French. I have a lot of homework, but my Education classes are all messed up, so it's the same homework in two of my classes. I don't really understand it. So I'm kind of doing what I think I should do and winging it. Fingers crossed. That's good enough for me.
I'll just bring two copies of everything.

I dreamed the other night. Well, last night too. But last night was a nightmare. I don't want to talk about that one. But the night before that was a good dream. A little odd, but good nonetheless.

I was in a white room at a big dark wood table. I was drawing and painting. I had just finished making a book. It was such a good book. But almost morbid.
It was for children.
About a little girl named Jane and she was very unhappy with how she looked, and so she slipped out of her skin and tried on a lot of other people's. In the end she puts her own skin back on. My illustrations were somewhat frightening. But I liked it. It was meant to teach children anatomy and to love themselves for who they are. It was really very interesting, the book when I finished it. And then I sat at that big table and just looked at it. My favourite thing was her little heart inside of her little anatomically proportioned chest. I liked that part a lot.

I think I dreamed that because of school. A lot of my Ed classes have been covering children and acceptance.
Also, I watched a movie yesterday that is driving me up a wall which is probably the reason I had a nightmare last night. And I've been thinking a lot about the holocaust again and geraniums.
I just need to go write that letter. Today I am so weird I almost drank a whole pot of Paris by myself. It's not good at all. Someone should do something normal with me. Or I am going to sit and look at anatomy books for way too long.
Bell.

Gracious.

2012-01-11T10:28:00.000-08:00

Fleur.
Yesterday was the first day of winter term. I am in some really good classes. The one downfall is that I am out of bookstore credit and am going to have to fork over $100+ for my special needs teaching textbook. O well. The perks of being a student right? Empty wallets and sleepless nights. But coffee. Coffee is a real perk, no sarcasm at all.

I've decided that I need a scraper for my car windshield. Mittens and a spatula don't work the best.
Also, I think I might go buy myself a pair of black wellies. I need some muckboots for in my coop.
In other news, I have new tires on my car and we get one blue egg and a brown egg now. Only thirteen more hens need to lay. And I found my Bible. Let's celebrate.

I took Fran to school this morning.
[Then I proceeded to search every store in Redmond for "Voss" water. Apparently it's nonexistent. According to all the courtesy clerks at least. But Mandy really wants it. So I guess I'm going to Trader Joe's this week.]
On the drive back, I thought for a really long time about a lot of stuff. Actually I was talking to myself about stuff, but we'll pretend I don't do that. I have been bored in Ezekiel ever since I found my Bible (Which I just discovered is currently lost again). This morning I determined to sneak into a different book. I read James. I think James is a very heartfelt book. And hard. It says in Chapter 4 though,
"He giveth more grace."
And that satisfied me. Grace is a really good thing. Kind of like blue eggs, 4-wheel drive, wedding dreams, and silk dresses. It's one of those blessings. I've really been toying with the idea of what it means to actually be gracious. I haven't quite figured it out yet, but I will. I think if there's one thing I have discovered so far, it's that grace walks hand in hand with perseverance. They might even be married. Also, I think all these thoughts on grace have something to do with a little piece I scribbled down the other day that hardly makes any sense, but it had a preacher named Persimmon in it and a prostitute named Temperance.

The other day, I bought myself 14,000 Things to be Happy About. This could have something to do with my overwhelming sense of optimism right now. I even started making my own list of things that I'm happy about. Then I made a list of things that made me angry lately and compared it to a list of good things that happened to me lately. But then I just sat and counted my blessings with tally marks--which, if you've never done it I highly recommend it. Things are really put in perspective when you have to stop making tally marks because you can't use your whole spiral notebook for blessings when you need it for homework. After all that, you really don't care how much your new tires cost you and that you don't have a windshield scraper. You just feel joyful.

I think this blog post makes no sense. That's okay though. I have to go build a fire because my hands are freezing and then write a cultural biography and study French. And lots of praying today. I have been praying a lot lately and I like it.

Love, Bells.

WA List.

2012-01-06T22:26:00.000-08:00

-Anthropologie
-Mark Driscoll
-best friend
-2nd Christmas
-car roll-over
-Westside Story on Broadway Across America
-old books
-need jingle bells
-paris
-chicken soup&dumplings
-donuts
-no ukulele
-antique rings
-short pants
-It Happened One Night
-Nat+La
-pretty hike
and
-tree fort.

Subconscious weddings.

2011-12-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

Fleur.
I often dream. Sometimes about things I do not like. Occasionally though, I will be blessed with a quiet sleep and something brilliant in my mind.
That was last night.
I went to bed earlier than everyone else. I had been talking to Kirsten, and after we stopped, I couldn't keep my eyes open. So I brushed my teeth and went to bed reciting "Endymion." I am trying to finish memorizing the first stanza.

I dreamed about trees. Tall, green trees. With light that flickered through the leaves. A soft light. And there were small white flowers everywhere.
I was somewhere I didn't know.
Bon Iver was playing. And there was a big log cabin, at least three stories tall. It was really huge. A piano sat in the first room you walked into. And I loved the kitchen. It was my kitchen.
It was my house.
People were everywhere. On the second floor were all the men. They were constantly asking me to tie their neckties. There had to be at least a dozen of them. All with slim grey neckties. Some of them were untangling a long string of lightbulbs.
On the third floor were the women. Dashing back and forth like little, flighty birds. Curlers in their hair. And only wearing tiny white slips.
La was in the middle of the room sitting on a wooden stool and putting eyeliner on. She wore a huge white dress. Made entirely of lace, except for an even bigger skirt of sheer chiffon that she wore over the top. It was embroidered with hundreds of tiny white dots.
Someone made me slip on a pale yellow dress made of silk. There was a huge tree embroidered on the back of it, right below my shoulderblades. And then Mandy was there, pulling my hair up for me and complaining about my convection ovens. She was wearing a similar yellow dress, but a different cut. And her's was covered in tiny white dots, mimicking La's dress.
The men kept knocking on the door and threatening to come in, and the ladies would shriek. I grew tired of it and marched after them, corralling a few to come help me string some more lights.
Four of them spent an hour with me, hanging picture frames and canning jars and lights from the biggest tree in the yard. And then we were attempting to hang my chandelier up over a wooden dancing floor.
I walked back into the kitchen to do something about lemons, and I looked at all the shoes lined up by the front porch.
Then I woke up.

I am assuming that this all has to do with me watching "Young Victoria" and wanting to read Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day again. Plus, both those have costumes to swoon over.

Also, I am going to see Kirsten Bean tomorrow.
This is my subconscious in an utterly happy state.

Westley Never Dies.

2011-12-26T15:40:00.000-08:00

My Grandparents bought me The Princess Bride for Noël. I have been devouring it in my procrastination moments as I pack. It is slowly creeping into my top five novels of ever. Heck. Who am I kidding. It already did.
That's why it's coming with me.

One more day till I see my best friend.

There's a small brown leather suitcase on my bedroom floor. It is stuffed with frilly, pastel coloured shirts, scarves, knitted mittens, and big, coin-shaped earrings. We (Mandy, Jenn, and I) head off to Seattle on Wednesday. Then to Kirstie's that night.
I am dragging too many pillows and a very large box of gifts with me. We're having a second Christmas there.

Also, I have decided that unless I screenprint myself a "Westley Never Dies" tee shirt, I actually might die.
I think the reason I love William Goldman so much is because he is such a great liar and it actually makes me believe that he could just be telling the whole truth in the end. Maybe Westley was real. I could believe that.
Or maybe I am obsessed.

I'm going to read excerpts of it to Kirsten at night before bed. The best parts of course. I better go procrastinate some more and bookmark them.

Crossed.

2011-12-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

My feet were cold when I woke up. I didn't assume there would be snow or anything, I mean, there wasn't. But I did hope.
I spent the majority of the morning finishing my panettone and cleaning. I also watched P&P and wrote a story in my head about a slight girl and a man who thought he loved a prostitute. It was the oddest thing. I feel all in a jumble.

My hens have laid eggs. Just thought I should announce that.
That occurrence has led me to secret celebrations of joy inside my chest and a lot of pictures drawn of lilac trees.

I have boatloads of letters to write and sugar cookies to make and one more knitting project to finish, but I thought I would wish everyone a
happy day before Christmas.
Pre-Noël you know. And fingers crossed for snow.

Prayers Golightly, or not at all.

2011-12-22T18:16:00.000-08:00

I was praying this morning. While I was running. I tend to do that often. Especially going up hills. There is something about struggling up a small mountain of pavement, cold air biting at your face, and pushing your feet to catch the beat of your heart--it just makes me want to pray. Possibly because of how out of breath I am and if I don't do something I am sure to try and rationalize why I am running and that will just make me stop running.
I childishly prayed for snow on Christmas.
Sometimes I allow myself to be ridiculous.

After my prayers took flight up to the heavens and my knees gave in, I went back to the house and Mandy + I had blueberry pancakes and watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's." I have determined that Holly Golightly is the most irrational person I'll never meet.
I should be more like her.
Also, I am required to learn Moon River on my ukulele.

After Mandy left, I sat for a while at the kitchen table and prayed some more. For snow again. And other things. I attempted to be like Holly too.
I have been thinking about prayer a lot. I don't know if I quite understand it. So I imagined each prayer as a bird--maybe a dove. Birds can fly. As can prayers. And Holly would imagine something like that.
Then I got distracted thinking about types of birds and the robins I saw on my run this morning. And then I found my notebook and read a story I had written about a boy named Knoff who bird-watched occasionaly. And then I wondered if being more like Holly Golightly would improve my writing.
Holly Golightly isn't real.
And I have spent too much time today thinking in circles.

I feel weighted a bit. In the central region of my chest area. Like I should be praying a lot more things than I do, and it feels like some of my prayers have clipped wings.
A while ago God taught me about the power of prayer by not answering any of my prayers. I didn't appreciate that lesson at first, but later I did.
I feel that same way again.
Only more ridiculous. I am asking for more ridiculous things. But also more serious things. Things that pull at my heartstrings and are capable of hurt and dismay. Important things.
He's not answering them.
My prayers aren't doves. They're hens. And no matter how high a hill I run up in the morning, they can't seem to fly any more than a few feet.

Maybe I'm more like Holly than I think.

Sidenote, as an ending. I need a moleskin for my newest project. Just throwing that out there. Also, it would be nice to own a book written by a so-called Truman Capote.

Fine Forever.

2011-12-16T10:39:00.000-08:00

Currently I am being blown away by Bon Iver and my legs are covered with goosebumps. Partially because I am wearing running shorts but also because I was not aware before now that Justin Vernon was capable of singing even better than I thought he could.
Today I am required to finish all packages that need to be mailed. Else they won't get there in time.
But man.
Right now I would just take Bon Iver and a piano and my copy of Jane Eyre to a deserted island with me, and I would be fine forever.

Bon Iver - I Can't Make You Love Me/Nick of Time

2011-12-16T10:01:00.000-08:00

Clouds and Ned Nickerson.

2011-12-15T09:08:00.000-08:00

Dear Fleur.
I went on my run this morning and then I came home and spilled muddy water all over me and then I proceeded to cut out small flags for a banner. I have been very productive in the hour since I woke up. I also read the first chapter of Matthew.
I am supposed to finish a story today and write another one. I don't want to do that. Mostly because I want to procrastinate and read Little Women for the billionth time, but also because my illustrations are frustrating me. I think instead I am going to make a picture book of clouds.
Clouds never frustrate me.

Today I need to make macaroons. And mail 1000 more packages. I mailed my first Christmas gifts out yesterday. The Post Office woman looked at me and said, I remember you last year. You're going to be in here a lot, aren't you?
I told her, yes, yes I am.
And I will be.
Maybe I should make all the Post Office people macaroons. If they work out. I'm going to need more almond meal.

As I was running this morning, a huge logging truck passed me. I thought in my head that Nathan would say, I need to sample that. But I didn't have any recording equipment with me. Darn. Just my blue Nikes. But I'm not Nancy Drew you know.
I think I want to re-read the Nancy Drew series.

I need to make a list. A lot of lists. One for Snohomish. One of books to read. Another one of gifts to mail. One of days till Christmas and what needs to be done. And just a list.
But first I'll take a shower and sing Christmas songs.

Westside Story and children.

2011-12-12T11:42:00.000-08:00

Nathan and Lala leave this morning. It was good having them. I woke up today and made tea while they listened to the Westside Story soundtrack in the other room. And we all had chocolate cake for breakfast.

I have decided that it is necessary for me to finish three Christmas gifts today. I don't know which ones yet. I think my painting gifts. Those are the easiest ones. It is the cold mornings and days I work that I want to make things with ease.
Someone needs to teach me to draw small children.

Nat and Dante are sitting next to me doing math. It makes me miss working in the first grade classroom. I hope I get to do that this coming Winter term. I really want to. I want to be tired and dress up and teach six year olds about counting sticks and rattlesnakes again. Then they send me home with my pencil skirt pockets full of little presents and pictures they drew for me.

Also, we have greek yogurt and I really ought to go look for my kazoo.

This post is not making any sense because I have a lack of sleep and am totally unprepared to teach tonight. I think it is because I have frequently been winging it since I focused so hard on my schoolwork this past term. When I don't have time to read, my writing has less clarity. I am trying to catch up though. Keats everyday and Little Women over and over again. I am thinking of attempting some Burney over break too if I can get my hands on it. I only own Evelina. Well, isn't that depressing.

I'll go write letters and paint now. I think my kazoo is in my Starbucks mug.

2011-12-09T16:04:00.001-08:00

Dear Fleur.
Finals are done. Nathan and La are on their way here right now. I just finished painting invitations for a future party. And Paris is brewing in the teapot.
I look like a mess. My hair is frizzy and I'm wearing some hipster Abercrombie sweatshirt.
Last night we watched "Bright Star" and I was so mean afterwards. That is the meanest I have been in a long time. I fell asleep really early reading Endymion because the whole thing was just too much for me. It was really ridiculous too. I was fighting over a flower printed comforter. And then I had a nightmare in which I could not breathe.
I've mostly been reading Keats all day now. I did wrap one Christmas present, so I haven't managed to procrastinate wholeheartedly. Also, I will probably do some writing. But Lamia is intensely absorbing and addicting. And part of me wants to memorize Ode to a Nightingale, but I really ought to write my own stories and haikus.
I just reminded myself.
Haikus. I am totally supposed to do this thing about haikus.
I should go do that. You know what though? I'm probably just going to end up muttering parts of Endymion under my breath and distract myself.
I am determined to do something productive and drink the majority of this pot of Paris all by myself.

Painting tea.

2011-12-06T16:39:00.001-08:00

I am at school. Just done with my two finals for the day. One left on jeudi. I have spent the last two hours looking for Christmas gift ideas on Etsy and staring at Vivien Leigh for too long. Mandy has one more final at 6pm and then we can go home. I'm going to read Gone With the Wind and try not to fall asleep.
I was thinking of writing out a Christmas list.
I'm not going to.

All I really want,
is to drink tea with Kirsten.
And to paint in her kitchen. I want to bring my paints to Washington over the New Year.

I would tell you about my newest endeavor, but I'm going to save it. It's the replacement for Project Clothesless after December 31st. It's really good. And has to do with words and diligence. That is all I will tell you. Until Christmas at least.

Also, I need black tea and a lot of glue. I found a recipe for air-dried porcelain that I'm itching to try. The tea has nothing to do with the porcelain. I am just almost out of Paris.

Last week of school is bliss.

Lalala.

2011-12-02T09:41:00.000-08:00

"When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?"
-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love.

Meadowlark.
I miss you. Today I miss you most of ever.
I wish I was in your house. We would have woken up this morning and a trail of paper hearts would have been from your room into the kitchen. And you would have been off on a hunt, while I made vegan waffles and brewed coffee and lavender early grey tea. I would have played for you my ukulele. Probably "The Dog Days are Over" by Florence and the Machine, because that's the only happy song I know. I wish I was with you.
I miss you La.

John Keats always wanted a brighter word than bright. I want a lonelier word than lonely. But there isn't one. Because "Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all." It's true. When you miss someone, every part of you aches.
Especially when you miss them on the day they were born.

But I am also joyful today.

Twenty-two is a big number.
When I was sixteen, I wanted to be twenty-two. Or twenty-four. Those are the good ages I told myself then. And maybe they are. But they're just numbers. We can put numbers on a lot of things.
How many people you've blessed.
How many candles go on a cake.
How hot the kiln is to fire a certain clay.
The temperature of lightning when it hits the sand and creates glass.
How many hours till you see someone again.
How many days since they left.
How many chickens you own.
How many petals on a rose.
The number of people in an orchestra.
How many days since you last saw you're older sister.
How many birthdays you've missed.

We number it all. But you know what?
You cannot number my love for you.
You cannot number my missing you.
There are no numbers.
Now words.
Because remember, there isn't a word for everything.
And so, due to the limitations of the English language, I will have to make use of my tiny vocabulary. And even more ironically, I will steal the words from another woman.

"Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you."

Your Flower.

Margin of life.

2011-11-28T10:38:00.000-08:00

I went running this morning and it smelled like birthday candles. It made me reminiscent of being eleven. I did not like the birthday candle smell when I was eleven. I was determined to be ten forever back then--it had to do with Peter Pan. That was the day that dream ended.

I wrote for an uncommon amount of time last night. In a good story. It makes me glad. I especially like the tense I'm using. It's a new thing for me.

I was thinking today about life. Most of my friends are either beginning relationships, getting married, or running a marathon. It's a sure point in life. Stable, rhythmic, determined. It feels planned.
I feel like a bird.
Flittering, fluttering, anything but sure. I scramble to get things done. I only finish halfway. I don't make huge decisions. I move slowly. I am undecided, unestablished, and I read too much. I am not in a relationship. I am not getting married. And I only run two miles in the morning and am not planning on doing a marathon anytime soon.
Everyone else is planting their roots. And I, I am still a bird.
It's a good feeling. But not in other aspects. It's almost like I'm ten again. Not wanting to be eleven. Not enjoying the birthday candle smell. But I still have the option of Neverland up my sleeve. I enjoy that. I would like to paint Neverland on the bottom of a bowl and keep it forever. When I wake up bleary-eyed in the morning and eat my cereal I would get there. I would get there every morning.

I think it's because I'm a writer.
I was really contemplating it on my run. Why I don't care that I don't have a boyfriend or a diamond on my finger or 26.2 miles under my belt yet.
I find pleasure in being able to take time to do things I love. Breathing space. That's what it is to me, a breathing space. The ability to write lists and determine my route. To flutter. I like sitting in my wheat colored bedroom and crying over fairytales and painting pictures. I like planning to be surprised. I like thinking.
I have all this time, glorious time, to think.
It's exactly like Georges Perec says at the top.
I invest. I travel. I transition. I write. Those are all things that I do now. Things that take time and beat their wings hurriedly. The joy that blooms in my being when I sit on my sofa till 10pm and scrawl out words that I'm not even sure make sense, it's almost unexplainable. But that's it. It's just writing.
It's just beautiful.

So my friends who are learning to love each other, who are choosing to become one, who are running further than I want to, cheers to you. Bravo. Stability is admirable.
But I think I'll scramble for a little while more.
Maybe just till this novel's finished.

20

2011-11-23T10:45:00.000-08:00

i am thankful for
1grace and salvation
2family
3kirsten
4tea
5optimism
6two hands
7words
8bon iver
9everyday i breathe
10people who make bread
11heaven
12ruth and boaz
13ludwig bemelmans
14emily dickinson
15a woodburning fireplace
16joy
17butter
18a year without buying clothing almost complete
19my ukulele
20today

Meet us in the Forest.

2011-11-23T10:22:00.000-08:00

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
-Oscar Wilde.

I went running this morning. An old lady almost hit me. I had to jump off the side of the road into a ditch. She was looking at her dog.
(Mandy just asked me if pineapples go into the fridge.)
Today I have to cut out a lot more hearts, do a lot more painting, and finish some writing. Also start some writing. Recently I had a good idea for a new story. I need to find a recipe for cranberry sauce too. And work on my essay.
I'm happy today.
I was reading in Acts--I'm supposed to be reading in Ezekiel, but I couldn't help it. I like the story of Paul too much. I was thinking about grace. I think it might be my favourite word.
Also, last night I had a dream that I was getting married. (Figures. All girls dream like that. Do single men have wedding dreams?) And it was in a forest with tea lights in canning jars hanging from trees and little light bulbs. And lots of peonies. Just everywhere. Huge white peonies. My invitations were what made me wake up happy. They were creamy and hand-done writing, each one. And there was so many papers inside. A map. A picture. An R.S.V.P. Little hearts. An extra envelope. But it was so genius, because it was in the first envelope, and then everything else was in a second envelope that was green and said,
"Meet us in the Forest."
I am so weird. Imaginary wedding invitations make me glad.
I want to go stargazing tonight. But it is so cloudy. Petitions and prayers for clear skies start now. God could find enough time during the day to change the weather for me tonight.
I'm going to write and read Eloise now.

My Robert.

2011-11-18T07:22:00.000-08:00

Dear Fleur.
My little sister wants me to go to Breaking Dawn with her. But she only wants to go because our baby sister wants to go.
I am possibly in love with Robert Pattinson in the dorkiest way ever.
But not enough to waste six dollars to see him with amber coloured eyes.
No, I'll settle for secret pictures of him in my journal and love letters that I don't mail.

I registered for winter quarter this morning. 19 credits. 6 classes. That all adds up to loads of homework and the need for a new stash of Haney&Sons. College calls for copious amounts of tea. It's almost ungodly, the number of cups of Paris I have consumed.

Jenn comes tonight.

I have an essay to write today. Or at least get started on it. Also, presents to make. A lot of presents. I am kind of in a mess. My psychology class is making me mad. I need to make things to get over it. I really do. I was almost in tears last night. I was so mad. Honestly.
We were talking about transgender children.
I can't talk about that. And then cancer came up. I had recently unearthed an older story about cancer that I was writing once before. After I got it back out, I realized why I stopped writing it in the first place. Then in psych, well, I just need to stop with the cancer plot-lines. Forever.
I'll stick with the marriage ones. And this other new one I have. It concerns angels. And I think it should be a screenplay. Robert could be in it.

Now. I have to go get dressed. Finish a very important letter. Homework. Go buy some styrofoam balls. Hide the cancer story--maybe I'll throw it away. Mourn the still-lost screenplay I just thought of. More homework. Take Mandy out for coffee. Make things. Do French. And maybe write Robert. Again. (I'm going to have a stack of letters soon.)

I need ribbon.
Bells.

Noël List.

2011-11-16T10:23:00.000-08:00

1the silver spoon(from costco)

2hardshell soprano ukulele case

3the princess bride

4an old copy of little women

5the MYSA RÖNN comforter from IKEA

6a paper tissue garland

7biscuit cutters

8big earrings

9to be able to cable knit

10a chevron necklace

11kirsten bean

12a string of light bulbs

13Jane Eyre(The movie)

14a Vogue subscription

(I will tell you all a secret. I really only want #11.)

Good things are already here.

2011-11-14T11:36:00.000-08:00

Dear Fleur.
I've been house sitting this week-end. Also doing way too much babysitting. It's productive though. You can have no clue how much painting and homework I got done. Also, the amount of tea and coffee consumed was exemplary. I am almost out of "Paris." Again.

I was praying this morning about a lot of things. India. A farm. Christmas. And I read Ezekiel. Ezekiel has been confusing me. The past four chapters are all about measuring the temple with a reed. But then this morning was different. I had an epiphany about double walls. And it totally had to do with what I was praying about too.
I feel awesome.

I need to finish figuring out my class schedule next term. If I can cram seventeen credits together, copious amounts of interning at elementary schools, and teaching martial arts with tins of tea and coffee, I will be set. I can so do that.

I feel like baking bread. But someone's birthday is coming up and I need to get on that. Also Christmas is looming over me. I need ribbon. Ribbon and ECE books. Maybe more Paris too.

Bell.

Father.

2011-11-09T08:51:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, my Dad used to come into my bedroom every morning and wake me with a kiss and tell me he loved me.
Then he would go to work.

I love my Père.

The other day, I was in the kitchen doing communications homework and studying French, and he was outside. Trimming the tree. He cut this one long branch down, and I watched him break the smaller branches off it.
Then he did a staff form in our backyard.

I love my Daddy.

I can remember he would go on overnight or weekend or even week-long trips, and I would count the days on my fingers. I had small fingers then. When the day came for his return, I would get so excited.
Then I would sit on the floor all morning and make him a "Welcome Home" card.

I love my Father.

He used to buy me dinosaurs. Taught me to ride a bike. Brushed my hair. Baptized me. Held my hand. Read me books.
Then he loved me.
That was what I liked best.
He loves me.
And I love him.

I love you Dad.
I love you most.
Thank you.
Your Bell.

GoodJoy.

2011-11-07T16:29:00.000-08:00

1.Dreams of broken ukuleles + broken dishes. [Interpretation anyone?]
2.Houndstooth fabric.
3.Letters mailed.
4.Teaching.
5.French quiz&Psych quiz.
6.Late nights.
7.Joy.
8.Good, good things.
9.J.D.Salinger.
10.Painting.
11.Picture frames.
12.Remembering.
13.I need so much more brown paper than I have.
14.Writing with a lack of time.

Happy.

2011-11-06T13:06:00.000-08:00

Dear Fleur.
I got the Anthropologie catalog yesterday and had a short relapse. I am a sucker for sweaters. I'm good now though. I'm over it. Sort of. Winter is the hardest I think.
I am going to write a memoir on this year, just so everyone knows.

I am uncommonly happy.

I keep saying that I am uncommonly happy because I am. It feels really good. Other than my failing moments in Project Clothesless, so many good things are happening.
And except for books. All the books I've been reading are super sad and depressing. In church, I even read Hosea because my Pastor commented on it in his sermon. And The Catcher in The Rye? Just kill me now.

Today I have to work on Christmas presents again. I was embroidering last night while catching up on the "Love Comes Softly" series. Also, Norway is difficult to draw. But I should do some sewing. And more drawing.
All my pens are out of ink.

I think I am going to search for my fabric, read my Whitman, and steal all Mandy's ink pens. O. And tonight I babysit. Thirteen kids. It's one of my favorite things to do right now. I will not be bringing my sketch pad with me though.

I am so dang happy.
Love, Bella.

Uncommon Melanie.

2011-11-02T09:03:00.000-07:00

I am in my kitchen wearing spandex and it's freezing. I just got back from my run. I am drinking chai tea and chocolate milk, but I really want coffee. Coffee sounds divine right now.
Last night I had a nightmare.
Actually, the past few nights I have had nightmares. They stated when I was in Washington. One was about getting my Masters degree and then no one would marry me because they all thought I was too smart. I lived in an apartment all alone, but I wasn't really lonely. I just wrote books and painted and taught something.
But last night my nightmare was about Kirsten. She wouldn't go to the Resurgence conference with me. I was mad and crying. I didn't know what to say to make her come. It was terrible. And we didn't have any tea.
I think this all has something to do with Christmas stress, doing well on my midterms, nesting bowls, and Gone With The Wind.
Yes. The other day I watched Gone With The Wind and I shouldn't have. It's four hours long and every time I see it I want to be Melanie Wilkes. Then I just go off thinking I'm more like Scarlet O'Hara than anyone else.
Also, I was reading Ezekiel this morning and I'm in chapter 37. The one about the dry bones and the army. I am in a whirlwind now. Never do prophets and Margaret Mitchell together.

I think I shall bake today and try and forget a lot of things. Maybe I should stop looking for my copy of Gone With The Wind too. Things might only get worse if I find it. I'm going to do more Christmas inventory too. And make a Harney&Sons tea list.

Did you know in the middle of all this, I am actually uncommonly happy?

Enough of love.

2011-10-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

Fleur.Sitting here listening to Robert Pattinson's "I Was Broken" and researching Edith Piaf. Tomorrow I get to watch La Vie En Rose in French class. We're even having croissants.

I went to WA this weekend. Saw Kirsten. She brought me vanilla comoro tea. I thought a lot this weekend about crow's feet, sitting in corners, "Jane Eyre"(Duh), assumptions, and selfishness. Also Ezekiel. God is still smiting people in Ezekiel; it's very depressing. My communications teacher told me that reading micro-expressions wouldn't make me paranoid.
He lied.
I wanted to take Kirsten home with me so bad. I keep needing to remind myself why I didn't. It's getting ridiculous. I love her too much. And then I keep telling myself,
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
An eight year old said that. I stole it from Hana. But that really doesn't help at all because I do mean it and sometimes I get worried she'll forget.

Edith Piaf loved a married man who was a professional boxer. He died.

I think I am going to read Psychology homework, make some Christmas gifts, and stop reading sad love stories now. Also I need tea. I have the day off today from everything except homework. I think it calls for watching a movie. Adolescence, tea, Robert, and a movie. I need my good tea too.
Bella.

"They will in a minute."

2011-10-26T11:34:00.000-07:00

Ken Robinson says schools kill creativity | Video on TED.com

Mice and starlets.

2011-10-24T09:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I went for my run this morning, raked the leaves on the side yard, and then did my chicken chores. I have come to the conclusion that we need a cat. A mouse was in my chicken feed.
Mandy always wanted a kitten. Perfect Christmas gift. I'll go get her a barn cat's baby. Probably a boy.
My parents are going to hate me.

Last night I dreamed that I lived by myself in the city, and I had these very good friends. They were a married couple. He was handsome. She was gorgeous. Like, really gorgeous. She reminded me of a movie starlet. Dark wavy hair, bright red lips, big brown eyes, and she dressed in vintage pencil skirts. She liked when her husband read Tolstoy aloud to her.
We lived in the same row of apartments, and so they always came to my house for breakfast. We would sit in my kitchen and read and eat and draw pictures. I had manuscripts everywhere. Or, maybe it was just one manuscript everywhere. It was a mess. They were helping me edit. I was working on some screenplay. And a novel I think. But the novel was only half finished and in my kitchen cupboard.
That morning we had a lot of coffee. I made scones. And then we all made plans to go to the farmer's market or something.
So we went.
And we stayed out too late. I looked down at my white shift dress with bleary eyes. The husband bought his starlet wife a bunch of rosemary. She looked so pretty accepting it. Standing in the street with her red heels and tan skirt and loose white shirt. We walked back to the parking garage together. We were a hundred feet or so from my car. An old, pale yellow truck. He looked at his watch.
And she was shot in the back.
Many, many times.

My alarm woke me up before I could scream.
This was probably the most violent dream I've ever had. And I've had violent dreams. After "Saving Private Ryan" and "Black Hawk Down." I have had dreams where people got shot. With blood and crying and screaming.
Not like this though.
I was running this morning and I could still see her falling down and her pretty neck and her husband whipping around to catch her. She was my friend in my dream. A good friend. And she was dead.
I still feel like there's a knot in my own neck and holes in my own back.
She wasn't even real.

I have to make Brioche now and possibly donuts. Also finish my homework. But first I need to stop mourning dream girls.
This is going to be tricky.

Now.

2011-10-23T07:53:00.000-07:00

It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy.

-Lucille Ball.

Ender.

2011-10-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Heading off to school soon. I have a French quiz today. But first I have to do my chicken chores this morning. I say my French ABCs to my hens. It helps.
I was up late last night and wanting a yellow cardigan. It was bad of me. So I gave myself a pep talk and went and read "Ender's Game" in my bed instead of sleeping for way too long. That book is awesome. I am going to name a child either Ender or Valentine. I think Mandy wants Ender though.
Also, does anyone else but me realize that Christmas is almost here? Now is the time I get to freak out.
I see Kirsten Bean on New Years.
And I'm pretty sure the girl in this picture is drunk. That means nothing. I just like her cardigan.
Love Bella.

Monday.

2011-10-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

List today.
1Read more Ezekiel
2Pray
3Write Nathan
4Write La
5Go jogging with Mandy wearing prom dresses
6Teach
7French homework
8Write an essay on death
9Find "Pride&Prejudice"
10Return my library books
11Listen to my Footloose record
12Buy Resurgence conference tickets
13Passport
14Pray more
15Christmas presents
16Text Jenn
17"Well, Aren't You Popular in Norway."
18Take pictures
19White paint
That's all.

Early Austen.

2011-10-16T17:16:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up at 6:40am to take Mandy to another photographer's house so she could go help at a park picture day thing.
I put on my sweats and glasses and just went.
Then I came home.
I pulled the white comforter off Fran's bed and made myself toast and put "Pride & Prejudice" on.
I then proceeded to cry all by myself in a dark room and analyze Mr.Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet's conversation.
I want to do my final communications paper on it this quarter.

I am such a romantic dork.

Princess not bride.

2011-10-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
So.
Mockingjay pins are $24. Die. And for my communications class, we have to break nonverbal norms.
I do not like to draw attention to myself. And that is what this assignment is all about. For example, yesterday I walked around the entire campus backwards. It made me late to some of my classes. And everyone stared.
Second example, on Tuesday I have to dress up. Like a princess. Then I have to go to all my classes and pretend like I do things like that all the time.

Last night I tried on Mandy's princess dress just to get a feel for it. I slipped it over my head. I zipped it up.
And I couldn't zip it up.
I have always had a swimmer's upper body. Broad shoulders. Arms that are easily toned. Long torso. Wide across the chest.
I would be such a great boy.
Unfortunately, I am a girl. And last night I was a girl trying to fit into a princess dress that is very necessary for my next assignment in speech class. I couldn't do it though. You should have seen me, sitting there with my head in my hands and tulle everywhere and thinking. I went back and forth.
I'll just find a different dress. I'll wear something else. What about project Clothesless? Would buying a dress break a rule? I should just not do it. It's going to be embarrassing. But the best things are always hardest. It's your assignment, you have to do it. Go to the thrift store tomorrow. Look through that pile of wedding dresses in the closet. You aren't fat. You should have been a swimmer. What if I had gone to the Olympics? I need another dress this poofy.
I was way out of my comfort zone last night.

I went on a two mile run this morning. Really fast. As fast as I could. I decided while I was running that today I will look for another dress. Not wallow in despair because of my shoulders and back. I will just find another dress.
I will wear something poofy.
I will do the assignment.
I will probably be embarrassed.
I will not dwell on the fact that I might have been a really good swimmer.
And,
I will not spend $24 on a Mockingjay pin no matter how much of a nerd I am.

"Life isn't fair. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something." But life shouldn't be spent inside your comfort zone. Not all the time.
Love from Bel.

Dreaming.

2011-10-07T08:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I was bad last night. I stayed up too late reading Jane Eyre and didn't care. I fell asleep with it in my bed.
Only a mile this morning. I have lots of homework to get done. And, it was raining. The perks of October.

I had a dream last night that I was in a different town, sitting in a coffee shop that wasn't Starbucks. I know I was drinking a skinny vanilla latte. And reading Jane Eyre. I had a really pretty copy of it.
I sat in this green chair that I wanted to steal and send back to Mandy because it was her birthday soon or something. It was drawn on my napkin with a nice ink pen so I would remember what it looked like.
I was at the one part in Jane Eyre when Mr.Rochester talks about the string and bleeding and Jane tells him she is poor, obscure, plain, and little, but not soulless and heartless.
I was crying.
I think I frequented this coffee shop and cried over novels quite often, because no one seemed to care.
Except for this one guy.
He had walked in when I wasn't paying attention. I heard the door open, felt the air shift, looked at the bottom of his jeans, and listened to him order his coffee. But other than that, I didn't care about the man who asked for a cup of the house blend.
Till he pulled my book down from my face.
"Are you crying?" He asked it like it was the most surprising thing ever. I think I answered him harshly, and pulled my book back. But in my dream, I felt my face get hot and red. Then he asked me what it was I was reading, and he repeated the title out loud. He apologized for interrupting me and left.
I also left not soon after that. I took my napkin with me. I slipped it under a rubber band that held stacks of letters from Mandy together in my bag. I know they were from Mandy. It was her handwriting.
Then I walked to a bookstore two blocks away to pick up an order of children's books.
He was there when I walked in.
He shrugged his shoulders and I felt my face get red again when I saw what the clerk was wrapping up. A copy of Jane Eyre. The same copy I had. He said something like, "Well, I couldn't really help it." I walked past him still blushing over to the children's section. He thanked the clerk and I heard him running after me.
He held his hand out when he caught me in a corner next to Bemelmans. I don't remember his name. I remember introducing myself though. I looked down at my pants and I remember I had yellow shoes on.
And then he asked me to lunch.

Then I woke up.
Now I need to go get dressed because Roger is in town and we are going to have coffee with him. And I am sweaty and tired.
I need to stop reading Jane Eyre.
-Bell.

Grateful.

2011-10-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I used to be very,very happy. I would wake up, entirely satisfied. Literally. In the mornings, I'd open my eyes and just relish the moment. Because I knew it was going to be a good day. I knew, and I was glad.
And then things changed.

I just sat here for something like ten minutes writing all about how things changed. And not for the better. I looked at the list I made. And I deleted it.
It's the blog post you'll never read.

Because it's not about things changing for the worse. It's not about me. I am slowly coming to terms with that. It has taken a lot of prophets, and some Jane Eyre, but I am getting there.

See, I feel the need to change myself. Still. And for a while I wanted to go back to that whole waking up happy self I used to be, but she isn't anything like me anymore. I know more. I've seen more. Done more.
I am more now.
It's not about going back. It's about the here and now. It's about learning from Ezekiel and reading page 260 of Jane Eyre over and over again. It is about helping people. It is about being different.
Living in the past is hopeless. The only hope we have is in the future.
What is ahead.

Simply, a grateful heart. For what is now.

I am going to store my treasures up in heaven, write more in that story I started, study, and then go to sleep. All with a grateful heart.

Here's to a new start.

October.

2011-10-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

Off to school.
With my yellow bag and banana bread.
And not having read all of my Psychology chapter because I was studying for a quiz.
I feel like singing a lot of Disney songs right now.
And I need some tea.
But,
it is really difficult to sing songs from Tangled when you have chai in your mouth.

Three months and cassiopeia.

2011-10-01T21:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
My parents took me and Mandy to the movies today. That was nice of them. Now we're home doing our homework. I really don't have much. Just some reading.
So I spent most of today lusting after the collected letters of Virginia Woolf for sale in our library bookstore and making more presents for Kirsten. It was very unproductive.
Also, I made myself cry over something I wrote and had an awesome conversation about dreams with Mandy.
I now know how to spell "Cassiopeia." I am so proud of myself.

I was looking at my shoes in the movie theater, and I came to the realization that they are gross and old. They are my bow flats. The ones Fran gave me.
I keep telling myself the first thing I will buy when Clothesless is over is a pair of TOMS, but then I think it should just be bow flats, and then I think I shouldn't buy anything. Because wouldn't that be somewhat hypocritical? I have three months to decide. That's plenty of time to ponder it more.
I probably don't need anything.

I'm supposed to watch "House" tomorrow. That is my homework. Watching House.
And drinking 1% milk. My Mom and Dad go shopping, and they come home with 1%. I think that makes you a borderline bad parent.
But I guess having to watch television shows with a narcissistic lead and not even doing that might make me a borderline bad student. I'll let you know when I decide.

I think it's time for some Alice in Wonderland. I need to find my copy of "Through the Looking Glass."

Unchecked.

2011-09-28T15:44:00.000-07:00

Communications homework, check.
Psychology essay, check.
French vocab, not nearly done.
Jane Eyre, the only thing I will procrastinate for.

I just went to the library and came home with two seasons of Smallville. Why would I do that? Zut.
Also, we have almost no flour, but I just might make bread anyways. Doesn't that sound good? Warm bread and Clark Kent.
But no.
Now is the time to do those fifty more pages of textbook reading before tomorrow. And maybe fall more in love with Mr.Rochester.

Jane Eyre.

2011-09-26T11:07:00.000-07:00

"Who would you offend by living with me? Who would care?"

"I would."

"You would rather drive me to madness than break some mere human law?"

"I must respect myself."

I watched it twice last night. I think it may be my new favourite. It certainly made me love the genius Dario Marianelli is more than I already did.
By the time she says yes to Mr.Rochester, I had tears streaming down my face. When they run through the rain back into Thornfield and he picks her up and kisses her, I think I might die of happiness. And after he is sleeping outside in the hall and asks her to stay with him, then I am a complete mess.
The casting director is brilliant. The filmography is brilliant. The costumes are brilliant. The screenwriter is brilliant. And Cary Fukunaga, he deserves every award in the universe.

I shouldn't be allowed to watch movies like this one.

Gracious.

2011-09-25T12:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Currently home alone after church listening to a mix of Switchfoot, Little Joy, and Beirut. I am kind of doing homework. I cleaned up all the breakfast dishes and got distracted. I'm still distracted. I'm even tempted to read some more Jane Eyre. This morning I spent almost and hour reading Jane Eyre. I barely had time to fix my hair.

Last night everyone was busy. Literally everyone. So I sat and drew pictures of birds and watched a movie about Nazis and swing dancing. That wasn't a very good idea. If you could have seen me you would have thought I was pathetic. It made me cry so hard.
Ever since I was about twelve I think, I've had this tender spot about World War II and Nazi Germany. In my textbook that year, there was a picture of the piles of shoes at the concentration camp. I cried for hours in my bedroom over that picture. I can't handle anything concerning that war now.
"The Book Thief" kills me every time.

I was reading in Ezekiel, and I actually found something I liked. (I've recently come to the realization that I'm very biased in my Bible reading and prefer certain books. I should work on this.) It was in chapter 18, and surprised me.
22All his transgressions that he hath committed, they shall not be mentioned: in his righteousness that he hath done he shall live.
It suddenly struck me that no matter what we did or do, we won't get to heaven and have God reprimand us. He's not even going to mention our sins. I was blown away by that. It will be like we didn't even commit them. Any of them. He's not going to say anything but "Welcome home child."
Even if we added to a pile of shoes.
If there's a definition for grace, it's that.

So now I think I will finish my Psych paper and draw more birds and fall more in love with Mr.Rochester.
I want to hang my christmas lights back up in my bedroom.
Love, Bel.

Inventions.

2011-09-23T09:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I am just back from my run. Only two miles this morning; I had to come back so I can do my homework. And I needed an ice bath. I know the stairs on campus are going to kill my knee. Plus, we did leg locks last night in jiu-jitsu.
So, the ice bath.
I have to pull out all stops to make sure I don't end up with a bum knee before finals.

This morning I read my chapter in Ezekiel. It was about eagles. I am now browsing handmade invitations on Scout's Honor Co. I should do my French homework.

I was inventing things too while I was on my run. Like sprinklers that could water your whole yard and have custom settings for every inch of the garden so you wouldn't kill your baby's breath with too hard a spray. Or a camera lens that can be every camera lens in eternity just by turning a dial. And a watch, a watch that tells you when you find your soul mate because it only ticks directly in rhythm with one other watch in the entire universe. (Except for maybe if you have two soul mates and one dies then you will find the other one).
That is all only because we talked about soul mates in Speech class yesterday and natural research in Psychology.

I am possibly going to practice French and draw fonts now. I have some letters to reply to if I find some too.
-Bell.

Blonde.

2011-09-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

School has started. Fifty-nine pages of Psychology text just finished. And I also did two pages of French vocabulary and thirty-two pages of Speech this morning.
I discovered the chances that I can have blonde children are like 0%.
Stinks to be me.
I have to go to bed. More stairs tomorrow. My campus is like running through a maze.
Bonsoir.

Parenting minus the husabnd and kids.

2011-09-19T09:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Major fail on my part. I just chewed my longest nail off last night. The reason? Thor.

Tomorrow school starts. I already have my Psychology and French textbooks. Did I mention I go from nine in the morning to nine at night? That could very well have had something to do with me chewing my second longest nail off this morning.

I feel like a parent.

It's a very responsible feeling. I think it's probably because I'm pretending to be a parent lately. It started right before Mandy's birthday. And now I do it all the time.
This morning I drove Franny to Redmond, returned the Redbox movie, went on a mile run, helped Dante with schoolwork, did the dishes, and I will tell you that there are three cheesecakes in the fridge because of me. Also, I'm reading Jane Eyre this term which has nothing to do with me feeling like a parent, but I want you to be impressed that I do all these parent-type duties and still find time to read.
Church was really good yesterday. I took all the kids because Mom and Dad were working. But I didn't find time to make bread so I should probably get on that. Sundays are supposed to be my bread baking day.
I checked my oil this morning. Also, I bought Mandy those red shoes for her birthday.
I feel really accomplished right now.

The reason I said all of this is quite simple. The movie "Thor" upset me last night, and tomorrow I go back to being a poor student with no time for anything but homework let alone to brush her own hair. I guess I'm trying to redeem myself before the dishes pile up in the sink again this term.
Also, the costumes were really stupid. I liked him better human and I wish he had shaved.

-Bella.

My Beth.

2011-09-16T07:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Mandyana.

"We'll all grow up...no pretending we won't."
-Louisa May Alcott.

There's actually only one person who never grows up. A boy. Named Peter. And you are not him. Not even close. Because in twelve more years, you will be thirty. Isn't that something? A thirty year old fairy.
But this year,
you get to be eighteen.
You get to be eighteen and learn French and bake bread and paint pictures and possibly get a fish eye lens for Patricia somehow. This year you get to be one year closer to thirty. You get to be less like "Beth" and more like you. This year maybe you'll leave the country and do something for someone else. This year is yours.
All yours.
I would give it to you. Wrapped up with all the constellations in a box and tied with a peach coloured ribbon.

That is how much you mean to me.

I love you.
Joyeux anniversaire.

Your Bells.

P.s. Taped underneath the computer is the clue you need to keep moving. It is labeled "Fairy."

One.

2011-09-15T15:16:00.000-07:00

"We were together. I forget the rest."
-Walt Whitman.

This morning equals success with the breakfast.
Unfortunately, we are having complications with the La plus Nat visiting plan. It involves the flu. I have this sudden gnawing in my head to go and buy myself some silver&gold. I wonder if I can find it in town.

Also, I have had the oddest hankering to wear coloured nylons. But I only have fuchsia. And I am determined to find blue and yellow at the end of Clothesless. Maybe purple too.

So here I am in my kitchen about to make more cinnamon roll dough, just off the phone with Nathan, and wanting to buy myself silver&gold and wear pink tights.
I just want to see my older sister.

Two.

2011-09-14T09:45:00.001-07:00

Dear Fleur.
One of my chickens almost got eaten yesterday. It is missing half of its tail. That was very traumatizing. Fortunately, I have to make lots of plans today for breakfast and things tomorrow and that has been keeping my mind off of it.
Also, there is way too much scavenger hunt stuff all over my bed.

Nat and La come tomorrow.

I have to find my copy of "Gone With the Wind" and way too many scone and other recipes. But I am way too obsessed with "The Princess Bride" to do that right now. It's becoming a habit for me.
Run. Eat. Read The Princess Bride. Clean. Feed chickens. Read The Princess Bride. Eat. Teach. Do dishes. Read The Princess Bride. Bake. Read The Princess Bride. Wrap presents. Read The Princess Bride. Make dinner. Core. Brush teeth while reading The Princess Bride. Pretend to sleep. Read The Princess Bride.
I don't think it's healthy anymore. You'd think I'd have finished it by now. But I've been taking it in such small portions I don't know if I'll ever be done. There's just so much I love about it.

Here's a conflict that has nothing to do with "The Princess Bride."
Mandy and I both want to name a daughter June. Major fail. It's like a race to have a baby and we don't even have lovers.

I think I'm going to make lists and drink tea and of course read The Princess Bride now. Also probably work on that scavenger hunt.
Love, Bells.

Three.

2011-09-13T09:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.

Two miles again this morning. The little brother and I are home alone. I'm reading Ezekiel and sweaty and wanting to make cake donuts. He is counting to eighty out loud. I need a shower.
Last night I read letters from friends, made baguettes, and watched "Little Men" all by myself. I sat on the couch wearing my big glasses and covering my mouth at the part when Mr.Bhaer makes Nat strike him.
My older sister has a boyfriend called Nat.
There are way too many correlations and coincidences for me to be comfortable with Louisa May Alcott's world anymore.

Coincidence 1: I am Jo March.

That is enough coincidences for you.

Anyway. I am really seething right now because our computer is so dead and I was counting on getting one of Mandy's presents off of it before her birthday. That is not going to happen anymore. I have learned my lesson. I will never again keep the only continued copy of something on a computer. This is why I write things out by hand.
I really liked what I wrote too.
There is a good chance I am also seething because I just re-read the end of "Little Women" before I went to bed at midnight and I was crying. I always cry at the end. I want to write something as good as she did. And then I put it in my head that what I had on the computer might have been the best thing I ever wrote and now it's gone and I'll never be like Louisa.

Someone needs to tell me to stop reading my favorite books.
Particularly "Wuthering Heights" and anything by Louisa. Also Jane Austen. If I pick up any Austen this month I promise I'm going to scream.
Shower now.
-Bell.

Four.

2011-09-12T09:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Start my new teaching job today.
Chai.
Norwegian books in my bedroom.
Falling head over heels for "The Princess Bride" in a way I couldn't even imagine.
Textbook worries.
Ezekiel still.
Nat is home.
Thoughts on Mothers via Pan and baby sister's essays.
Chickens out.
Aloe vera.
Eighteen plus six is not twenty-five, even if you think it is.
And,
painting today I promise.

Six.

2011-09-10T10:54:00.000-07:00

Borders is closing forever. I found out through Dallas Clayton. See image above.

Yesterday was a really bad day. I found out Borders is closing. I flat-ironed my hair just to go on a hike and then I misjudged the timing of a twelve miles up-hill and had to go down in the dark and my hair didn't matter at all. I got a terrible sunburn on my back. My chapter of Ezekiel was way confusing. And also Kirsten lost her ring.

I want to wear a pencil skirt today. And now I am listening to Josiah James and Stephen Speaks. Also I get to go to a wedding. This day will probably be better than yesterday. At least that's what I'm shooting for. Today I even want to bake more bread. My German bread is almost gone.
I wish I had wheat flour.

I need to go put more aloe vera on now. Also, Nat comes home today. The countdown begins before Mandy's birthday. And Franny cannot keep any secrets. This is why I hide things in the garage and three hours away.

Mumford cries.

2011-09-07T10:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Hill run this morning. And the seventh chapter of Ezekiel. I totally didn't get anything out of it. But I just carry on. Mumford&Sons this morning during my breakfast. That, I got something out of.

The nesting boxes are almost painted and my room is almost clean. My life is a lot of "almosts" right now. I'll let you know whether that's a good or bad thing later. I haven't decided yet.

Yesterday I read to Mandy while she organized. Excerpts of "The Princess Bride." My favourite part actually. When Buttercup and Westley are fighting over whether or not she is capable of love and she shoves him down into the ravine. I also read some Keats to myself later on and cried. I have been crying so much lately. It's ridiculous.

Example.

I was driving to pick up Fran from school yesterday and I was working a story out that I've been doing and I ended up crying because I gave it a sad ending. It wasn't even really that sad, just a little upsetting. I wasn't even crying because it was sad. I think I was crying because I had imagined myself as the lead and the main guy dies in the end and that was what upset me. I killed off my lover. I was weeping over the unfairness of it all.
I need to stop doing that.
Pretending to be my characters. It's not very healthy I think. At least, not if it leads to tears.
So I stopped crying and almost stopped thinking about that story, but not entirely, and then I pretended that it didn't matter. But I should probably start reading some happy books and no more Keats and stop writing bitter stories. Darn though. I'm dead-set on finishing this one I started last night. It's really short. But again, upsetting.
I just can't win.

I have to call Jenn now. And get dressed. Before that though, I'll finish painting the nesting boxes. So I need to find my painting shirt I guess.
Also, no tears today. I promise. Unless it's for a very good reason. Like, my back hurting from leaning over and painting the inside of those nesting boxes.

-Bells

Mess for La.

2011-09-06T09:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Here is the thing.
I live in a room with a photographer.
And also, Nat+La come in just under two weeks.

Mandy and I decided to clean.
La wanted to see.

The first picture is the current state of our beds. That is a baby bassinet. There is an ironing board somewhere in there. Maybe too many books. And the Christmas lights are still not strung up again. A wok is hiding also.
The second picture is the current motivation for us. Sean Faris doing clapping push-ups by the ocean. It's a very clean image. Something good to work for.
I'm kidding. Really.
Mandy is just in love with him. So she hung it up.
I for one hung up a picture of a bride with very beautiful arms next to my bed. I didn't take a picture of it though. I think she's pretty. And it reminds me of "The Princess Bride."
Yes. That is still one of my indulgences in between cleaning and eating these days. I need to finish about eight more books before school starts again.

I just want to make it clear for whomever decides to live with a photographer for the rest of their life--or more precisely, whoever marries Mandy--should take into consideration the woes. There are a lot of perks. Really. But there are some woes too.
I will write you a letter about it if you are interested. The letter will be very long and cover the broad subjects of easy birthday present ideas and the expense of lenses and the problems with owning too many too large props. Such as baby bassinets. That is definitely a downfall to the career.

My ukulele playing has been suffering these days. But I don't have time to change that right now. I need to go take a shower because I just got back from my run. And then I have to clean more and possibly read "Lord of the Flies."

Reminder: Carnations for Mandy's birthday.

I'll help finish the coop today too. Or come close to finishing. More painting. Nesting boxes this time, in eggshell white. And gah, I should try and do that trim too.
Also, before I forget, I have your polka-dot flats La. Come get them.

Ezekiel and Westley.

2011-09-05T08:42:00.000-07:00

I plan to write about the ocean today. If only to prove myself wrong. And clean my room. Because my room is such a mess. Positively, it is. I'm not even kidding.

I need to make bread.

I went on a run this morning. Two miles. Then I came home and put my chickens outside and read Ezekiel. Ezekiel is odd. He talks about tiles and buns and iron pans and laying on your left side for a really long time. I don't get it.
Nathan called me yesterday. He told me about Guatemala and said I should draw pictures of Ezekiel. Maybe I will. One for him at least. Possibly chapter four.

Last night I had a dream.

Because my room is such a mess, Mandy and I are sleeping in Fran's extra bed. It is very uncomfortable because it's a twin. So of course I had not so good dreams.
In my dream I was trying to make books, and everyone kept calling for me and ringing the doorbell. So I had all these partway finished books on my bed and I was getting really upset. Magazine pictures and paints and paper were everywhere. I was trying to paint the sea and I couldn't. I was also very dissatisfied with the bodice of my girl's dress that I was drawing.
It was all just a big mess.
I had locked the door, but then someone climbed in through my window and I got really mad at him. I asked him to please just leave me alone, and then because I said "please" my dream switched to some sort of Princess Bride-esqe type of dream. Maybe because I have been reading that book. And I was Buttercup and dragging Westley to a cave and it was raining and he was bleeding all over. It was nothing like in the book. It was much more violent and dark. I knew he was dying. And I kept getting upset at my dress because it was all wet and too long and clingy and the book in my pocket was sopping.
The ocean was crashing on the horizon.
I woke up and went to get dressed for my run.

Now I will drink some tea and look for those caraway seeds again. We have to have some. I want to make that German bread so bad. I can just imagine it now, me at the table eating that bread and drawing the ocean.
Also, one last thing should be noted because I think it affected my dreaming too. I read "Peter Pan" yesterday and cried over the ending when Wendy is grown up.
Maybe I should stop reading so much.

Textbook.

2011-09-01T16:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I am finishing up last minute college stuff. Looking for textbooks. I am also trying to figure out this camping trip we are kind of sort of planning. I just read the third Hunger Games book this morning. Pretend I never said that. It angered me.
And now I have forgotten my college username.
Zut.

Kirsten has been making baguettes without me. I'm trying to find a French textbook and she is making baguettes.
I need some balloons to cheer up.
Or I'll just draw pictures of France instead.

Today is my Mother's birthday.
I was very sentimental about it this morning. All because I have been reading Little Women. But then I woke up to go on my run and she was gone already for work. I ran fast till my chest hurt and my legs were rubbery.
Now I am waiting for someone to bring me home cocoa powder so I can make her a cake.
I wish I could send my Mother to France.

Right now, I am very upset that French textbooks cost an arm and a leg. It will be the death of me, my guilty pleasure this term. Praise the Lord for bookstore credit though. And sisters who take the same classes.

I am going to proceed with making a birthday dinner and pretending that I don't care about The Hunger Games series anymore. I will probably also look for caraway seeds because I found this amazing German bread recipe that I want to try.
I'll make the furthest thing from French cuisine. Thai food. Or I could just go Italian. But I feel kind of daring. I think I might get daring when I'm upset.
-Bella.

Phillipa.

2011-08-29T10:08:00.001-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I am officially done Mandy's birthday and two chapters from finishing Lamentations. I do still have to make sure La has all her stuff put together, and I have a scavenger hunt to map out, and also a cake recipe to find. That's the easy stuff though.
This morning's chapter was very depressing. Except for about halfway through it was like a whole different book of the Bible. He started talking about how God will never leave us nor forsake us and the unjust will be punished in the end. I was sitting there eating my cottage cheese and was like "Wait a second..." The title is a half-truth. Because part of Lamentations is Blessings. This is why I plan to be surprised.

On a less important note, I have decided that I like the name "Phillipa" for a little girl. Which brings my name count for future children up to twenty something. Major fail. That's not even really possible at this point for me.
The answer either lies with adoption, or lots of really long middle names.

And now I have to go help finish the chicken run and paint some pictures and then make a phone call.
I should put my hair up. It'll be in the way if I don't.
-Bella.

Temperance.

2011-08-26T10:09:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I dreamed last night that one of my chickens died. The little Rhode Island Red. The one named "Baby."
Is it weird to cry because you dream about your chickens dying?

Mandy is in the kitchen singing me the happy birthday song very off key. My birthday was two and a half months ago.

This morning I finished Jeremiah. It ended in a very depressing manner. Almost everyone dies.
Tomorrow I start Lamentations. Doesn't that sound even more depressing though?

I also had a good second dream though. I was married and had a farm and a daughter named "Temperance." My house had hand done wood floors. At night, my husband and I would get all the quilts from our house and we would trudge through our wheat field in our rubber boot with our little daughter. Then we would lay directly in the middle of the field and stargaze.
And we had lots of chickens and none of them died.

Mandy made me carrot cake because I didn't get a cake for my birthday.

I think if there's one thing that I'm walking away from Jeremiah with, it is that God is just.
Also, there is a slight chance that I am very excited to be one book closer to Daniel. I have always loved Daniel too much.

I need to go get dressed and change my oil and eat less cake but draw more pictures of wood floors now.
Also I have look for a dairy free cake recipe and wrap more presents.
Bell.
Bell.

Guilty pleasures.

2011-08-24T21:10:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.
I occasionally indulge in long marathons of watching episodes of "Bones." It has the makings of becoming a problem. Lately, sitting in my family room and drinking iced tea while watching Booth and Bones run around solving crimes has unearthed some youthful fantasies.

When I was thirteen I wanted to be a forensic anthropologist.
It started with a mystery magazine my Mom had brought home for me. I was already hooked on The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, and getting obsessed with Dick Tracy didn't help at all. But I think what really did me in was that magazine--and copious amounts of Sherlock Holmes. I pored over it for hours. Reading and re-reading the stories. I especially liked the one written by the woman who studied dead bodies. She was my favorite.
I wanted to be her.
I really was going to do it. Grow up, go to school, become super smart, and then get a really high-paying job and have a handsome partner. It seemed like a logical and well thought out life plan to me.

Then I realized I was not so good at math or science and I am quite sentimental and probably wouldn't be able to retain a cool demeanor while studying human remains.
Everything seems simpler when you are thirteen.

Today I wrote a lot. A lot a lot. It was good. I didn't mention dead bodies once. And that didn't phase me. I wrote happy things. Mostly about food and the Bible and girls with long hair. I am working on some secret things. One is about the ocean. It's not really a secret, but it is till he reads it.

I finish Jeremiah the day after tomorrow. I think I'm nervous. But I will just pretend to be as collected as Bones is and think about facts. Sometimes it is very hard for me to think about facts when I read my Bible. I should try and be more analytical.

Also, there is a slight chance I now want to name one of my future children "Temperance." If only for the sake of nostalgia and dead childhood dreams.
Bell(who was thirteen again today).

List 2.

2011-08-21T20:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I have been making lists as you can see from my prior post. It is a bit exhausting and uses too much paper.
(This picture is not one of mine. But it feels like whoever wrote it is my soul mate.)
Church was good this morning. I realized something. Sometimes, making lists is stupid.
I made a stupid list yesterday.
It was about life and accomplishments.
This morning in Church my pastor said to everyone, "You know those lists of accomplishments we all have? Throw them away. We are nothing without Christ."
I came home and threw mine away.
Then I made another one about birthdays.

I want gelato right now.
But I only have a sponge for white bread in the kitchen tomorrow. And that is definitely not gelato. Especially not chocolate gelato.

I need to go to bed. But I just started talking to Kirsten. So I'll be up for a while. Thinking about chocolate gelato and making lists of things to do and needing dry milk for my white bread tomorrow.
Also, I will have nightmares because I watched "The Dark Knight" and no matter how lovely Christian Bale is I still get scared and my chest hurts.

Bella.

List.

2011-08-20T09:37:00.000-07:00

Thinking of Virginia Woolf.
Sewing.
Chicken coop things.
White dresses.
Wedding tonight.
Tea.
Painting and wrapping presents.
Sisters buying me things because of Clothesless.
Peeling sunburns.
Talking with friends+catching up.
Last minute summer trips to cram in.
A lack of gas money.
Nathan's music.
Blog under construction.
Trader Joe's.
Wanting a dress form.
Kirsten.

*Not in that order.

Big things.

2011-08-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I need a case for Noel. He is getting marked up. Mostly because Mandy just tosses him places. She needs her own uke. Because I like to take care of mine and she doesn't.
My back+shoulders hurt. I got sunburned at the lake on Sunday. We had Church there.
Also, very big things are happening. It is awesome. And that is a perfect word for it.
I have to go cut some flowers and then help paint the chicken coop some more. We're almost done with it.
Last, Nathan, we need to keep our correspondence up. I will email you soon. I miss you. Come see me. We can read my favourite Bible stories together and yours while eating vegan molasses bread which I plan on making.
Love Bell.

I cannot be disappointed.

2011-08-12T15:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Today I watched "The Princess Bride." I also painted and nannyed and wrote in a special story.
I am missing Kirsten.
She was in my dream last night.
It was not a good dream.

I was marrying a Navy Seal. He had bullet hole scars in his back and built me chairs. I think I always dream of people like him building me chairs.
Kirsten was in my wedding. She wore a little peach coloured dress. I don't even really like peach that much. And we both carried peonies because they are my favourite.
He had bad dreams at night after we got married. And he was always sweating and shaking. So we would get up together and go sit on our porch and I would sit in his lap and fall asleep again. But he would be awake.
Always awake.
We gardened together. We grew peonies because they are my favourite. And sometimes he got mad at me for no reason. Our peonies did really well. Our marriage was falling apart. Only after four months or something like that.
We were dying.
Slowly.
And it was because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how he could fall asleep. I couldn't get rid of the nightmares. All I could do with him was garden and sit in his chairs he built and not watch the sunrise with him.
Then he left me.
Kirsten and I looked everywhere for him. We called everyone. He didn't even take his things. He didn't bother. And we couldn't find him. Because he was a Seal. He was good at leaving and hiding and not being found.
I sat in the chair he made and cried for days.

Then I woke up to watch a meteor shower and only saw six meteors and two shooting stars. At first I was disappointed. A bad dream and a lack of meteors. But after you stare at the glory of God's night sky for an hour, you can't really be mad anymore.
I think I will paint Kirsten a picture now. And maybe make something. Or just put my hair down and fall asleep in the sunshine.
Maybe I'll have a good dream.

I want a chair to sit in.
And now all the Waltons are crying.
This day is just great. Just great.
Bella.

Goodness.

2011-08-09T19:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I went to a wedding. It was good. Because weddings are always good. I will mention that I drove seven hours to get there. That is how much I love weddings.
I got to see La. She is sweet. So sweet, I bought her a plate. That is less than how much I love her.

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. About school coming up and doors to India opening and stargazing and friends and humility.
The other day, I got embarrassed for the first time in a long time. I'm only telling you this because I think it's important and a part of my transformation and change I'm doing and God's doing in my life. It was stupid really. I got very red in the face and pretended that I didn't exist.
But then I got over myself by reading Jeremiah and praying.
I think God was teaching me about humility.
And that was hard, but so worth it.

Also, I do not throw rice at weddings. I am against it.

I have been reading in Jeremiah just like usual. I think it's growing on me. The stories are intricate and they make me nervous. Jeremiah is continually thrown in jail. But it's probably a humility thing. Maybe prophets used to get prideful. So they were beat up a lot.
I really don't know.

And now I am listening to Noah & The Whale and watching "The Waltons." But I'm tired, and my back hurts. I should just make a loaf of bread and sleep. We're supposed to watch the meteor shower tonight, or rather early tomorrow morning. At about three I think. Or maybe it's the next night. I don't even know. I'll research it.
Okay.
More later.

Bella.

I am planning secret things.

2011-08-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

I feel like I have a lot to do.
And it's true.
I do.
But I just wanted to make it clear, that the other day when I came home form WA, that was the first time I ever smelled junipers without trying.

Everyone must think my town smells when they visit me.

I never noticed.

Transforming.

2011-08-01T10:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Today I am determined to write out a children's story I have in my head. It will be for Nathan. I don't think I've ever written Nat a story. So this will be a good thing. I kind of want to attempt painting pictures too. But that is making me nervous. I'll start with the words and see where I go from there.

Via this hack, I have come to the conclusion that I am not the sweetest person I could be, so I am going to change. I spent a week at camp praying for transformation for my cabin of four girls. Now it is time to pray for that for myself. I think Clothesless is just the beginning of something bigger. Something about giving. It will be good. I promise.
(On the note of Clothesless, I am doing very well. Mandy bought me a tee shirt that I am in love with. And three people have told me my little bow flats are trash, but I don't care.)

I miss my La. I left her a note on her boyfriend's magnetic board. I hope she found it. It's written on Christmas wrapping paper love. Go look for it.

I am not quite sure where my paints are, so I should go look for those. And also, I need to spend time with my chickens--I love my chickens. And I need to buy some quinoa because I need to learn to cook with it because I like it. But first, paints. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll find some watercolours.

Bella.

Heading home.

2011-07-31T13:27:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.

In La's temporary summer home listening to Coldplay with Mandy. We head home tonight with a bunch of IKEA dishes and too much car trouble to think about.

I miss Kirsten.

But I am reading Jeremiah and E.E.Cummings and emailing Nat.

I will write about her and camp later.

I miss my family too.

I picked a lot of fire lilies at camp.

Bell.

Toast.

2011-07-07T23:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
So I feel very neglectful of my writing. I should fix that.
I want toast for breakfast every morning too. That is getting old.
Also,
Kirsten comes in one day.
I think I might scream.
So tomorrow I shall be positively busy in a Lauren Child sort of way. I will paint. Babysit. Draw. Write. Read two more books. Go swimming. Drink tea. See a concert. And clean.
Then she will be here.
Then I will scream.
And we can have toast together.
Bell.

.

2011-06-29T07:15:00.000-07:00

"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries."
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

It is white with little green flowers along the bottom of it. And it's from Japan

2011-06-28T06:46:00.000-07:00

Fleur.
The Catcher in the Rye is coming babysitting with me today. I'm almost through with The History of Love and Great House. Little Women stays at home. I like to read that one in my bedroom and the bathtub.
Today is painting day. I need to find a good painting tee shirt. And some paint. But one thing at a time.
I got this new cup for a quarter the other day. I drink my morning tea in it now. I need to get Kirsten a special cup to drink her's in before she gets here. Unless she brings one. Oui. I did just say that my best friend would pack a glass mug all the way down to Oregon. She is that cool.
I need to get dressed. I leave in an hour.
I am getting good at timing now that I have college and everything. I can't decide whether or not I like that about me. I probably will decide to like it. It's a good thing.
And just to announce, we officially have flour. So all bread baking of the summer really begins now.
I should finish Norm.
Bye.
Bella.

Practice makes tired.

2011-06-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I went to Church this morning. The one thing that stuck out to me:
"Why die for someone who's already dead?"
We actually serve a risen Lord. And that is incredible.

I was in my room sleeping a few minutes ago. I think I had a good dream. But I can't remember it.
I was laying next to Noel after having practiced for a few hours. I still can't strum very well. My mind is hard wired for writing and reading. Not for playing ukuleles and reading music. But I can learn. The one thing I've discovered this past year, I can learn anything I want to. So I am going to learn ukulele.

Kirsten comes to see me in less than 14 days now. I already made a list of everything we're going to do. I seriously cannot contain my joy of the thought of it. I feel like my face is glowing.
She's going to teach me to cable knit.

Camp is in almost two weeks. I was thinking today about how I will wear my hair. I probably won't care about it. But I don't really want to run out of bobby pins. I need to go to the dollar tree. Mandy says she is going to live in her black tights. That's kind of a bummer, because we only have one good pair and I can't buy another because of Clothesless. I will either go with cold legs or find myself a pair of sweatpants in my bedroom I guess.
I can't wait for kitchen duty.

I'm going to go practice more with Noel.
Love, Bell.

If I ever want a cat, tell me no.

2011-06-25T12:33:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Yesterday Mandy and I watched the film Unstoppable. I cried because it scared me. I don't think a movie has ever scared me so much in my entire life. I literally contemplated getting up off the sofa and leaving into the kitchen because my heart was beating so fast.
Then I fell asleep holding my ukulele for two hours. I thought a nap was a good idea.
I knew I would have nightmares last night.

I dreamed that I had a cat and named it Laurie.

And we were planning a wedding and it was my wedding and I didn't even want to get married. I liked the guy, but for some reason I had never even said yes and they were still planning the wedding. He was just over six foot. Had a short, blond crew cut. And I think he was a Marine or something. I can't remember his name.
They bought me a really expensive dress. It was a surprise. And I tried it on while they all cried and said I looked so pretty. I hung it on my window afterwards and drank a cup of coffee while they tried to tame my hair.
Then I ran away.
I took my cat and packed one backpack and left. The day I was supposed to get married. My hair was all nice and everything. But I didn't care.
I stayed away for three weeks.
I can remember still feeling like I liked him, but not that I loved him. But at the end of the three weeks, I changed my mind and decided that I should just make him happy.
I went back.
I went to the Church first, and his brother was there. We sat and talked and he told me I didn't have a right to run away the way I did. He was crying. I said that I knew that and I was back and ready now. But he just kept crying. Then he looked at me and said, he was supposed to be your husband. He said, he was your responsibility.
I went to the Marine's house.
He wasn't there.
I went to my house.
They told me the day after the wedding the man I was supposed to marry had killed himself because I never came.
Laurie sat on my lap. I was in a wooden chair. A hard wooden chair. I think the Marine had built it for me or something. I thought I was going to throw up. They said it was my fault. Everyone just kept telling me that he was my responsibility.

Then I woke up. It was only six but I couldn't sleep anymore. So I buried my face in my pillow and cried. I now have this unbelievably ridiculous complex that if a Marine ever builds me a kitchen chair I am going to have to marry him. I didn't even read my chapter of Jeremiah yet this morning because I was frightened that it would say something that made me think that dream was more than just a nightmare. Reading through the prophets is sometimes hard.
Bell.

Noël Magellan.

2011-06-24T09:31:00.000-07:00

I have a ukulele.
I named it.
And now all watching of youtube videos to learn to play it shall commence.

The end.

"Everything changed the day she figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in her life."

2011-06-23T11:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
There is no wind today, and it kind of makes me sad. I was hoping for wind. I don't know why. I just was.

I think that God has been teaching me the power of prayer.
This is going to sound kind of ironic, but I think that because
He hasn't exactly been answering my prayers.

O.
That got you? Am I right? You totally expected me to say that I think that because there is this huge impact on my life and God is answering all my prayers as I shoot them straight at him and it's like a chain of answered prayers one after the other.
Nope.
He hasn't answered many of them.
And at first I was stupid and fought back. I yelled at Him and told Him that this wasn't going to teach me anything at all.
Then it did. Teach me something I mean. I've learned that patience and peace walk hand in hand.
I ask for a lot of things of my Lord. And they're not selfish things either. I don't ask for a bajillion books and multiple watercolour drawing pads. I ask for good things.
Healing.
Joy.
Peace.
Safety.
Conviction.
Sometimes I am selfish and I ask for the wind. But mostly it's things like those. Good things. And God doesn't give me all of them. Only some. A portion. A very miniscule portion.
But it's powerful.
The fact that I can ask for any and all of that, is powerful.
And it blows my mind.

I've had so much time lately. It's been nice. To be able to wake up in the morning and do the dishes and bake a loaf of bread and paint and then read, so nice.
I haven't written in my books lately. Not in my novel at all. But I think I'll get it out today. I still need to make props for the library play though. We'll see.
But something I will be doing all day,
is praying.
I'm making a list.
It's exciting.

Love Bell.

Under construction.

2011-06-22T22:40:00.000-07:00

I want to watch Tangled.
Instead I should go to bed.
We don't even have it anyway.

I painted a lot this morning. And I made Farl. But it's really salt. I think next time I'll half the salt and add two teaspoons of sugar. It's good as toast. It would probably be really good with cottage cheese on it.

I was contemplating punching the computer a few minutes ago.
My blog is under construction right now.
I am getting Nat and La to do most of it for me.
But the parts I have to do make me want to scream.
It's kind of late outside though.
I might freak the neighbors out.

I would like a new belt. Well, technically not a new belt, but just a used one. Something brown and leather and cute. I want to be able to tuck it up underneath itself when I put it around my waist. I'm going to have to wait till January, but I'm looking forward to it. The small things are best. That is what I am discovering in this project. I just need simple pieces. And appreciation.
I appreciate what I have right now. Even my old belts.

Tea sounds good.
But I'm too tired.
Waking tomorrow will be nice.

David who fears the Lord with Jeremiah.

2011-06-20T22:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I have been thinking a lot about how God can be loving and God can have this undeniable
wrath.
It is almost startling. Kind of like painting. When you paint, there is an immense amount of colours to choose from. You can crush dark blues and greens and blacks and greys on a page. Or make it bright and vivid and happy. Or light.
I think that might be my favourite.
The light paints. Wheat. Pale pink. Creams. Periwinkle. Sort of like fields. And things that move. Light always moves in my head.
God is like all of that.
I tend to lean towards a complacent Lord. The big man who sits up there in heaven and watches life like it's a television show He wrote and He already knows what's going to happen next. And on some days, I like to think of a kind God. A God of compassion and right and just and peace.
I usually ignore the harsh Lord.
The one who rebukes and chastens and punishes and says to people, "I knew you not." Him. I don't really like Him. I hate fearing Him.
I am so scared of everything.
But I don't like to be scared of God.
I like Him to be my light paints. And even my bright ones.

I was reading Jeremiah the other day, and this is what it said.

Jeremiah 5
20Declare this in the house of Jacob, and publish it in Judah, saying, 21Hear now this, O foolish people, and without understanding; which have eyes, and see not; which have ears, and hear not: 22Fear ye not me? saith the Lord: will ye not tremble at my presence, which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea by a perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it: and though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail; though they roar, yet can they not pass over it?
I had to look up perpetual because I wanted to be sure it meant what I thought it meant.

per.pet.u.al/pərˈpeCHo͞oəl/

Noun: A perpetual plant, esp. a hybrid rose.

Adjective: Never ending or changing. Lasting for eternity.

Did you get that? Perpetual means forever. Forever. Not just till Tuesday. But forever.
God bound the sea forever.
He can be dark colours too.
And He should be.
God is not always peaceful and sweet and soft and the colour of wheat fields. He is not always sure and alive and vibrant and bursting.
But.
There is always a but.
But.
He is always good.
Even in his judgement.
He is good.

And worthy to be feared.

I need to paint tomorrow. The ocean.
Love Bell.

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."

2011-06-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I am twenty years old.
Everyone is home.
La + Mandy brought me a pie dish. And a polka dot skirt. And a peach blouse. And a book of 100 breads.
Mom bought me a Ukulele and five chickens.
I was supposed to take a shower this morning. I just didn't.
I have been too busy reading Nicholas Sparks and Jeremiah and e.e.cummings.

I should go get dressed.
But did you know, the summer sun at six in the morning is quite possibly the prettiest thing I ever saw?
So bright.
Love Bell.

Silver Laced Wyandottes.

2011-06-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

I just got chickens for my birthday.

Now all I need is a ukulele to sing to them.

I turn twenty in three days.

2011-06-15T21:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I went to class tonight. I don't have to teach on Wednesdays right now, but I have to on Mondays. Thirty little kids. Gah. So I am thankful for Wednesdays. It's like a break.
I have a bruise on my knee.
It hurts.

Summer has started. I am through three books already. And making birthday presents like crazy. Anyone up for constellations? Oui, they're that cool.
I like purple right now.
Especially purple yarn.
I wish I had some.

So.
Shiloh.
Yeah, that's all I'm saying about that.

I have Anna's cookies in my bedroom. And I was going to have a tea party and share them with my sisters, till I realized that none of my sisters are home. Two in Eugene. One at a sleepover. And I am a dork, sitting in my kitchen all alone and drinking earl grey and eating Anna's. With a bruise on my knee. Staring at star charts.
I wish I could paint my nails blue.

I was thinking that if Kirsten Bean was here, she would be eating Anna's with me and teaching me to cable knit.
I am in the weirdest mood.
But I really need to go and adapt some bilingual story into a play for The Summer Reading Program. And I don't even speak Spanish.

I just remembered that I'm going to have to make a giant paper mâché coyote head and a red cape with a hood.
All the while looking at stars and growing older.

Love Bell.

Hard times are all times.

2011-06-12T23:17:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Mandyana graduated. My grandparents are here. La is visiting. And there is a German girl in my kitchen.
She is so adorable.

Today I read my Bible before slipping on a blue dress and jeans and going to Church early. I'm in Jeremiah now. It's different, different than Isaiah.
Jeremiah makes me cry.
I was having a hard time yesterday with things that happened. Just being reminded. I had to find some time to sit in my bedroom alone and read old letters and Emily Dickinson's poems and pray.
I have been pondering friendships and youth. How I know that sooner or later someone I know my age will die. Like, honest to goodness die. It will have to happen. It's almost inevitable.
People you love sometimes give up.
I realized after a while that I wasn't just afraid of my friends dying a natural death, but a spiritual one. And then I realized that that had already happened before.
I should stop being afraid of what has already happened.

I read somewhere that this is a hard time for dreamers.
It really isn't though.
I think all times are hard for dreamers. No matter the economy or situations or spiritual demises that people you know might meet. I think that the thought of youth and dreams is upsetting me, and it's probably because I am not so young anymore but I still have one million dreams.

I need to finish Norm and Manly. Keep praying. Write more letters. And go drink tea with my little sister and her German friend.
But I have more thoughts to share soon.
About sailboats and Isaiah and paintings and Italy and friends.

Later, now that I have time.

2011-06-07T07:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
Last final today.
Then I will come home and actually have time again.

I really want a garden.
And just to sit and read Plath and make lists in it.
That would be good.

Praying a lot lately.
I'm finishing up Isaiah.
I'll blog about that later.

-Bell.

Find me in a tent in my backyard.

2011-06-03T22:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
I am sitting in my kitchen trying to get to page ninety of my screenplay before I go to bed tonight.
I am sleeping outside.
In a tent.
With three other girls.

Right now though, I just want to go put my glasses on and not write anymore. I never thought that I would have to do a one hundred and twenty page paper. Never.
I never thought I could finish a one hundred and twenty page paper either though. I guess that means if I am dedicated enough this summer, I can finish Manly and Norm.

Finals are next week.
I can't wait for summer.
I want to do 1000 things. Like wear bright dresses and bake and paint and buy a ukulele.
I turn twenty in a few days.
Dang that's old.

Did you ever know that doing your homework to The Civil Wars is really difficult because sometimes I just have to stop writing and listen to what they're singing?
I was going to make myself a homework play list this morning.
Then I realized that that would be a waste of my time.
This term ends in four days.

Where did I put my glasses?

.

2011-06-03T22:31:00.000-07:00

Mustard seeds.

2011-05-31T13:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Fleur.
This weekend was a joy. I deliberately avoided all of my school with the exception of storyboarding. I saw the ocean. I drank multiple cups of tea. I talked to my friends. Went people watching. Prayed. Opened gifts. I missed Kirsten Bean. Listened to stories about faith. Saw Nat and La together. Wore jeans under skirts. Had messy hair. Cried. Worried. Did not have to drive. Stayed up late. Didn't stay up late. I learned. I sang. I carried my sister. I watched baptisms. I drank Starbucks coffee where there was no Starbucks. I ran. I was given a wedding invitation.
And I was blessed.

I was thinking about money today. There is a woman in my small group who was talking about how much money her husband has been spending. "He bought a new motorcycle...he wants hybrid grass...we went shopping for new clothes....we spent $400 in Chuck-E-Cheese's...bedroom murals...ipods...we went to the movies..." Everything you could possibly imagine. She said they even bought her seven year old son a $900 remote control helicopter as big as him.
I wanted to cry.
There was this one day this weekend, when I started freaking out about money.
I usually don't care about things like that. I like to think that I don't worry about greed. But I've come to realize that I do worry when I shouldn't.
I sat on the planter bed outside the meeting hall and prayed really hard while listing everything I needed and my family needed in my head.
A lot of people talked about faith.
Today I had to buy windshield wipers for my van. Two of them. So I bought them, because it rains a lot here. I spent $20.
And I cried so hard.
I kept asking God why could he let my windshield wipers break if he knew I have to go to school this week and I'll be short gas money because I had to buy new ones. Didn't he care? And then I looked down at my sandals and had an epiphany of sorts that it wasn't supposed to be about money and I was supposed to have faith.
I also realized that if I didn't buy new windshield wipers it would probably rain and then I would end up crashing my car because I couldn't see and I would probably die or have to walk home in the rain in my sandals.
I stopped crying and felt stupid.

Matthew 17
20And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief; for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Move from here to yonder place; and it shall move; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.

I should just stop worrying. Tonight I'll call Kirsten. Bake something. Write in my screenplay at least ten pages. Finish my storyboard. Read my Bible. I will actually fix my hair. Maybe. I'll drink tea. I want to stargaze. I will browse Joy the Baker. Write letters.
And I will put sweats on and not care that I can't shop at Anthropologie.
I am so blessed.
Love Bell.

Promises about my fingernails.

2011-05-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

Multiple pages left in my screenplay.
Today is already really difficult. But my joy shall not be robbed.
I am wearing blue.
Nat and La are the best homework helpers.
Tulips.
This weekend I get to go to la mere.
Storyboarding.
I swore to stop biting my fingernails.
Looking for sandals in my closet.
Donating coats for extra credit.
Wanting to watch Enchanted.
And,
Isaiah 56.